


One More Miracle

by Vanya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Reichenbach Falls, TW: Child harm, TW: drug use, Torture, Violence, tw: PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya/pseuds/Vanya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is still trying to cope after three years off thinking that Sherlock is dead. After serving a second tour in Afghanistan, he returns injured and seeking solitude from everyone. One day there's a knock, when he opens the door, Sherlock is standing there.</p><p>After getting his friend back, they start to realize that they are more then friends. But someone from the past came back with Sherlock. This foe is determined to finish what he started three years earlier. </p><p>Can John and Sherlock have a normal life as a couple?</p><p>Or will old ghost keep coming back to haunt them and make their life a living hell?</p><p>Will there ever be such a thing as "Happily Ever After" for Sherlock and John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I | Back From the Not-So-Dead

**Chapter I | Back From the Not-So-Dead**

_Three years._

Three years of being gone and now he was back at 221 B, Baker Street.

Sherlock stood quietly and stared at the door. Slender fingers moved up and slid over the gold colored numbers. He looked up at the building and wondered if he was still here.

_Are you daft?_

_Of course he's not here._

With a sigh, Sherlock dug in his pocket, avoiding the drugs in his pocket as he searched for his keys. It took him a little bit but he finally grabbed them and tugged them out of his pocket. He pressed the key into the lock, praying silently to whatever being would listen that they still worked. Taking a deep breath, the brunette closed his green eyes and held his breath as he turned the key.

_**Click.** _

Sherlock exhaled and smiled lightly as he pushed open the door. Making sure to peek in first to make sure Mrs. Hudson wasn't there to wail him with a cricket bat or something. When he didn't see any one, he moved into the entry way, quietly pressing the door shut before leaning against the cool wood.

_Just a moment to adjust._

He had thought about this over and over since the day he jumped from the top of St. Bart's. How much he wanted to come home. They had to be sure.  _He_  had to be sure that Moriarty was gone for good. But the sound of his voice as he fell.

" _Sherlock!"_

The words at his grave.

" _Please, there's just one more thing—one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Just… stop this. Don't… Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that? J-Just for me?"_

When John cried. He had never felt something like that before. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. He wanted to bad at that one moment to embrace him. Kiss him even. Touch him. He swallowed hard and lifted himself away from the door. But there was time now. He had to talk to Mrs. Hudson first. Then he could find John.

Taking a deep breath once again he moved over to his landlady's door. The woman had been like a mother to him. Always looking after him and helping him. He loved her. Truly he did. She was one of the people that he loved more than anything. Her, Lestrade and John. He swallowed hard and made his way to the door. Hesitantly he lifted his hand and knocked. He nervously shifted his weight from home foot to the other as he waited for her to answer. The door clicked and he looked up as it cracked open. "Joh-…" Her words were cut off as she saw the dark hair. Opening the door wide she gaped at him. It too everything in his being not to say anything to her about. Unless he wanted t-

_**SMACK!** _

…get smacked…

His head turned with the force of the hard hit, letting out a small gasp as he adjusted to the sting. "Mmn…" He let out a small noise and turned to look back at her, gently rubbing his face. "I deserved that." He muttered as he looked down at her. His lips moving into a frown as he saw tears rolling down her face. "You're bloody right you had that coming! And a hundred more! How could you do that Sherlock!" She yelled, moving forward and slamming her fists into his chest out of anger. This time it didn't hurt though and Sherlock took the moment to wrap his arms around her back. Holding her flush to his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, but I promise there's a good reason for all of it. And I will explain everything to you. I will. But… I need to know some things first…" He said as he rubbed over his back as she clung to his jacket. She seemed to have accepted this, because she pulled back lightly and looked up at him, gently rubbing her eyes. Sherlock gave a small smile and took her face in his hand, lightly brushing his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe the tears away. "Dear Mrs. Hudson." He gave a small smile, and she finally gave him once back. "Are all my things still in the flat?" He asked as he looked up towards the stairs. The woman nodded lightly and swallowed, trying to find her voice after crying as hard as she did. "Yes. Mycroft wouldn't come get it. He told me to just leave it there. Even paid rent while you were gone." Sherlock smiled and kissed her head. "At least he did something right." He said turning and moving up the stairs towards his flat. Mrs. Hudson blinked and gasped when she realized something. "He helped you, didn't he?!" She yelled, starting up the stairs. Sherlock bent over the railing and smirked. "Of course he did Mrs. Hudson. He was the one who got me into that mess in the first place. Do try to keep up dear." He smirked as she cussed a little running after him up the stairs.

Sherlock stopped at his door and put his keys in the lock. Turning it once the door clicked and opened for him. He moved inside slowly and smiled as he looked around at everything that was so familiar to him. He didn't think it would be so nice to be home. To see familiar things and faces. He sighed and moved into the flat and looked around. Mostly looking for signs that John had been there. But there really was nothing. Mrs. Hudson came up behind him as he looked around. "He's not here Sherlock." The brunette turned and looked back at her. "Am I that obvious?" She nodded and smiled leaning against the door jam. "He left. About a year after you disappeared. Last I heard he served another year in Afghanistan. Harry called and told me he was back. Alive but not so well." She said with a soft frown, Sherlock let his face drop as well.

_Alive but not well?_

_Did he get shot again?_

"You can go look in his bedroom if you like. I don't think there's anything in there though." She said as he nodded and moved to head up the stairs. "Uh, Sherlock dear?" He stopped and turned to look at her, she gave a soft smile. "Would you like me to make a cuppa?" The brunette smiled softly back and nodded. "Please. I'll be back shortly." He said to her as he moved up the stairs and looked around the room. There really was nothing. He didn't forget anything it seemed. He sighed and moved back down to his flat, going into his own bedroom to change into something more comfortable. As he hung up his jacket he looked over and spotted a piece of paper on the made up bed. Moving over he gently picked it up and looked it over.

' _Sherlock,_

_If I ever get my miracle, I want you to know I took one of your shirts. I won't be coming back there so you'll have to ask Harry or Mrs. Hudson where I am. I don't know where I'll go at the moment._

_You owe me a miracle._

_Love,_

_John Watson.'_

Sherlock smiled as he looked over the words, gently folding the paper and pocketing it. He moved over to his closet and tugged out a comfy shirt and pulled it on before moving out of the room to see Mrs. Hudson coming with tea. "Feel better?" She asked as she sat down in John's chair and Sherlock moved to his. He nodded to her and sat with a sigh. "Yes, now… can you tell me more? About John. Did he get shot again? Where is he?" He asked curiously as he picked up the glass and took a sip of the warm liquid. He almost forgot how good tea was. Mrs. Hudson let out a small sigh. "He's somewhere in Scotland. Way up north. Living by himself. He was shot in the hips and his left side. The bullet went in right above his heart and out his right side by his hip. Sherlock, we really thought he was going to die. But he pulled through. He has to walk with a cane again because the other bullet shattered his hip, but he if alive. But…" She sighed as Sherlock watched. Inwardly wanting to shake her for information. He felt horrible that John had gotten so hurt. Almost dying. "What is it?" He finally spoke up and looked her over lightly. She shook her head. "He has PTSD. Very bad. He won't go to a therapist like before. He doesn't walk to anyone, but call here once in a while to let me know he's alive." A small sigh came from his lips as he looked down. "Do you know the name of the town?" He asked looking up at her before taking another drink. He wanted to leave already.

_Find him._

_I have to find him._

She frowned and shook her head. "Stay here one moment and I'll try to find out." She said getting up and going down stairs. Sherlock shifted in his seat, feeling his pocket for the needle and his cocaine. He wanted to shoot up so badly.

_Not yet._

_Get the town first._

_Then excuse yourself to bed._

He nodded to himself and pulled his hand away, taking another sip of his tea. He pressed it to his lips and finished it as he waited. Just as he was going to get up, Mrs. Hudson walked up and over to him. She held out a small slip of paper to him. "I got his address. Told him I wanted to send something." He took the paper and looked up at her. He was about to say something about not letting him speak to John, but she cut him off. "No. You have to fix that in person." He closed his mouth and nodded, moving to stand. Sherlock leaned forehead and pressed his lips to her forehead, giving it a chaste kiss. "Thank you. But I think I'm going to bed. I'll pick the things up tomorrow, go rest." She smiled and nodded to him. "Alright, Shery. If you need anything just holler." Her hand moved and patted his arm. "I'm glad you're alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He nodded and moved after her, shutting the door. He sighed a little and leaned against it before heading to his room. He shut that door too and locked it. Pulling the drugs out of his pocket he placed them on the bed as he tugged off his shirt and then the gloves off his bruised knuckles. Sitting on the bed he got it ready and pressed the needle into his arm, letting out a groan at the feeling of the drug entering his system. He panted for a moment and pulled an empty drawer open and tossed the needle away. He shoved what was left of the cocaine into his pocket and pulled off his pants, letting them thud to the floor. Now only in his boxers, he went under the covers and stared at the ceiling. Thinking of only one thing.

One person.

_John._


	2. Chapter II | Seeking Him Out

**Chapter II | Seeking Him Out**

_You fool._

_You stupid, stupid fool._

_Why would you lean on a man, who was falling?_

_Sherlock didn't care about you._

_He was a liar._

_He was a fraud._

_He was nothing._

_And you meant nothing to him._

John jerked upwards out of his sound sleep.

Well.

As sound as sleep got for him.

Those words.

Every night he swore he heard them in his sleep.

The blond moved to sit up in the chair he had been sleeping in and looked over at the window. It was raining again. It was always raining in Scotland. He sighed and leaned back against the chair as he watched it. Images of that day at St. Bart's was running through his head again from the recent dream.

The sound of Sherlock hitting the pavement.

Feeling his heart break as he felt for his friends pulse and got nothing.

John shook his head and lifted the sweater he was wearing to his nose. Breathing in the scent. It still smelt like him. No matter how many times he wore it and then washed it, it always smelled like him. "Sherlock…" He muttered his name and stood up with a gasp before tumbling to the floor and crying out, holding his hip. This happened all the time when his mind was on Sherlock and not on the fact he had to grab his cane before getting up. John took a deep breath and stayed where he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

_Sherlock._

_Please come back._

He shook his head again and reached up for his cane. When he managed to grab it he tugged himself up and into the chair with a huff. The blond moved his hand down to rub over the sore hip that he had managed to fall on. Again. The thunder booms and shook his small house as he looked over at the window. His mind kept wandering back to that day. He frowned and leaned his head down, pressing his hand over his eyes as they started to sting, his other hand gripped the hem of the sweater.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Sherlock woke up and groaned a little. He didn't like the hang over feeling he had. But it had helped him sleep the night before. Which was good. Because he had a lot to do today. Getting on a train and going North. That was going to be a long trip. Eight or nine hours being stuck on a train. He didn't even know what he was going to do for that long. Oh well he could think about it later. Yanking himself up from the bed Sherlock staggered a little bit. The drugs must have still been in his system and slowly working out. He took a deep breath and moved over to the bathroom.

_Shower._

_That will help._

He thought to himself as he turned on the water and waited for it to warm up, before stripping what was left of his clothes and climbing. Warm water was always relaxing after waking up hung over. Whether from alcohol or drugs. Sherlock leaned himself against the wall, letting the warm water drench his hair and skin. He thought about John. Not that he had really stopped thinking about him since he had gotten back. He was convinced he was in love with him.

Wasn't that kind of what love was?

That strange urge to be with that one person all the time?

To never be able to get them out of your thoughts?

He sighed and looked up at his arm, running his long fingers over the bruises and marks from where he had been injecting himself. Shooting up with cocaine. Just to get his mind to quiet down, just for a little while. John wouldn't like those marks. He already knew that he was going to be furious at him for leaving and probably would end up with a broken nose or a busted lip. But he just hoped that he would give him a change to explain everything. He shook his head and finished up the shower. Getting out and drying off. After tossing the towel away he grabbed a couple of nic patches from the cabinet and slapped them on his arms. Hopefully they would keep him occupied. He didn't want to be high when he saw John. That was the last thing he wanted. He stood there and thought about it more. He moved and grabbed the box out of the medicine cabinet and left the bathroom. Tossing the box onto the bed. He quickly dressed himself and grabbed the travel bag. His phone pressed between his ear and his head as he talked, making arrangements for a train ticket and a car.

Mrs. Hudson wandered up when he was packing and leaned against the door. "Sherlock, before you leave I want an explanation why you did that in the first place. You promised you would explain." She said as he looked over at her. Letting out a sigh he nodded. Packing the last of his bag. "Alright. Come sit down and I'll explain. Doing as she was told, she wandered over to him and sat on the bed. Sherlock took his bag and set it down on the floor, and sitting next to her. He proceeded to tell her everything. What happened with Moriarty and how he was threatening to kill them. That if he didn't die they would. He couldn't let that happen. He had figured this all out and worked with Maggie and Mycroft to make him vanish.

"So… it was all to protect us?" He nodded to her and she gave a small sad smile as her eyes started to water. "Oh…Sherlock… I…" He shook his head a little and looked over at her. "You still have every right to be mad. But I hope it helped." She nodded to him and wiped her eyes. "It helps." He nodded and moved to stand. "Good. I have to go catch a train." He said and leaned down to grab the bag but stopped when the small woman hugged him. "Good luck with John. Try to bring him home? We miss him." He nodded and gently patted her head. "I'll try." After she let go Sherlock was out the door and into a cab.

The train ride long. Really long. Eight hours, forty-three minutes and twelve seconds. The whole time he was on there he was only thinking about what was he going to say to John when he saw him. Would John even talk to him? He had to take the chance and it was too late to go home now. The train jerked a little as it pulled into the station making Sherlock groan. He looked out the window and took a deep breath.

_Can't go back now._

_You've come too far to go back._

Grabbing his bag Sherlock pulled himself out of his seat and off the train. Walking through station until he saw his car. He moved over to it and knocked on the window. The man rolled it down and looked up at him. "Ya Sherlock then?" He asked as the brunette nodded to him and handed over John's address. Getting in the cab he sighed. His heart was pounding hard in his chest the closer he got to finding the blond. Sherlock couldn't take the feeling in his stomach and more and dug in his bag, yanking out another nicotine patch and pressing it to his arm. The longer it stayed there, the more relaxed he felt. The soft pattering on the car alerted him that it was raining.

_How much longer?_

_It had to be soon._

He looked down and started to zip up the bag when the car stooped. He looked up and over at the little house. "Here we are." The cabby said to him. Sherlock couldn't get his voice to work and handed over the money as he got out into the rain. He looked at the house and then at the car as it pulled away.

_Deep breaths._

He moved up to the house and placed his bag down before knocking. He stepped back swallowed hard. The sky rumbled and he was getting drenched. The door clicked as John turned the knob and opened it. He was leaning heavily on his cane as his eyes locked on Sherlock. The brunette gave a soft, but nervous smile as he looked over his friend, inspecting the areas where he had been hurt. It broke his heart to see him with the cane and know this time he really did need it. And it was somewhat his fault. "S-Sherlock…"

" _H-Heh…Hi John."_


	3. Chapter III | Consequences

**Chapter III | Consequences**

John stood there on the step giving Sherlock the same dumbfounded look he had when they first met. How the hell was he here? How was hell was he even alive?! He watched him fall. He felt for his pulse and got nothing. He even knelt in his fucking blood, for god's sake!

_How are you here?!_

Just a hello and his name. Hearing it made him want to scream. John felt dizzy and leaned against the door frame, pressing his hand over his eyes. "No… you're dead Sherlock. I saw you fall. I… I felt you, damn it! You were dead!" He screamed as he looked up at Sherlock. He just stood there calmly and let John yell. Why didn't he react?!

_Please show some emotion._

_Show me you're real._

"How the hell are you here?!" He yelled again, pushing himself away from the wall and letting the cane clatter to the ground as he reached up and gripped his collar, yanking him down a little. Sherlock had never seen John look like this. Angry and in pain. It made him sad to see him like this. To know it was his fault. "John…?" He muttered his name and looked down at him. He moved his hand up but the blond smacked it away and let go, backing up a little way. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Light shaking his head as he tried to breath. Every time he heard his name come out of those lips he wanted to scream. He wanted to believe that this was him, but who did he see then. Whose lifeless body did he touch? What the hell was going on? Was this Sherlock standing in front of him? It sounded like him. "John plea—…" The blond growled and slammed his fist into the other man's face. Finally. He just couldn't stand to have him say his name again. He couldn't stand to hear his name again. He didn't want to hear any excuse that could be given. "Belt up!" He yelled as he stumbled into the wall with a groan. That hurt. Slamming his hip into the wall like that. He watched as Sherlock staggered back, holding his face as blood seeped over his hand. "Don't even talk to me yet, Sherlock. How could you do that to me?! I thought you were dead, you git! D-Do you know how much that hurt me?! Thinking you were gone!" He growled pressing both hands to his chest and shoving him back, before staggering a little and falling into his chest. His body shuddered and he leaned against him. Burying his face into his chest and gripping his shirt tightly. "I thought I lost the only person I had. My best friend. I thought you were dead Sherlock… How could you leave me all alone like that?" Sherlock let a frown come to his face, even though it hurt like hell. He moved and wrapped his arms around John's back and held him there. One hand was still holding his bloodied face. He didn't want to bleed all over John. With a small sigh, Sherlock gently rubbed his hand over John's shaking back.

_John._

_I'm so sorry for hurting you like this._

_I wish I could make it better._

The rain was cold now. Sherlock was even starting to shake. He looked down at the blond, and without a word, scooped him up into his arms. He was so light. He didn't realize how small John was. Using his foot, Sherlock kicked John's cane into his hand, using it as a crook to grab his bag. Silently he entered the house. He didn't want John getting sick from standing out in the rain. He didn't know what medical problems he had now from getting shot in the chest. He didn't want him to hurt more than already was. Going into the small house, Sherlock shut the door with his foot. Dropping the cane and bag to the floor, he walked over to the couch and sat down, holding the clinging blond flush to his chest. One hand held his head to his chest as his bloodied on, rested on his side, just above his hip. He was nervous to touch his hips at all. He was fairly certain that was the one he bumped against the wall, but he couldn't really remember. He didn't mind. He gently ran his hand over John's longer blond hair soothing him. He didn't know when, but John had started to cry. But he felt the hot tears staining his shirt as the rolled off John's face. His brows furrowed a little. Knowing that John was crying, made his eyes sting.

_He's not a dream._

_He's really here._

_Holding onto me tight._

_Touching my hair._

_He's not dead._

_He's not gone._

_He's here._

_Sherlock._

John let out a soft sigh before he looked up at Sherlock. His eyes had closed. God he didn't realize how tired he must have been. He looked over his face and frowned at the dark bags. Where had he been? What had he been through since he was gone. It could have been anything. Moving his hand he reached up and gently looked at the split lip and his nose. Letting out a sigh he gently should Sherlock's shoulder before pulling away from him. "Sherlock, wake up." He said as he used the wall to walk over and get his cane, pushing Sherlock's bag over to him with his foot. "Sherlock." He said louder nudging his shoulder harder, making the black haired man gasp and look over at him. A groan came from him as his hand moved back to his nose. John had probably broken it when he punched him.

_Worth it._

He thought, smirking inwardly. "Let me see." He said leaning over and gently taking his face in his hands. Sherlock couldn't help but melt a little at the warmth of the warm hands against his cool face. It felt so nice to him. To have John's hands touching him. He looked at John as he inspected his nose. "I'll fix it up for you." He said using his cane to move away from him. The other man nodded and moved to pull himself up from the couch. John looked over him for a moment. Contemplating if he really wanted to do what he was thinking about. Raising his cane, he swung it hard and slammed it into Sherlock's hip, making him thud back to the couch with a yelp. He placed the cane back down and smirked a little at Sherlock as he writhed from the pain. "Ow! Shit… John! What the bloody hell was that for?!" He yelled gritting his teeth together. "Now we're even, Sherlock." He said with a small hint of humor in his voice as he walked away to get the first aid kit, leaving Sherlock alone on the couch. He blinked and rubbed his hip lightly before letting out a small chuckle, smirking in John's direction. The blond had really given him a good wallop with that cane. But, his words gave Sherlock hope.

_Now we're even._

It was a step in the right direction. All be it a small one. But a step none the less. And that made him happy. John moved back into the room and sat on the coffee table with a soft groan. "Turn this way Sherlock." He said as Sherlock did as he was told and moved to let John wipe the blood away from his face. The doctor's touches were soft as he worked over the injuries. After a rather awkward silence the brunette finally spoke again. "Hey John?" He muttered a little, wincing when he pulled away and pointed at him. "Listen. I'm not ready to talk to you. I don't want to hear any reasons or excuses. I won't forgive you so don't bother saying sorry yet." Sherlock frowned and looked down at his lap. "When will you be ready John?" The blond frowned and gently touched the dark locks. "Try in the morning. You're staying here yeah? I'll get you a pillow and blanket. You can sleep on the couch." He said pulling himself to his feet once again, hobbling off to get a blanket for and pillow for him. When he came back, Sherlock's hand moved up and gently took John's wrist. "But… I wanted you to know I missed you." John stared down at him before pulling his wrist away, dropping the blanket and pillow in his lap. "Good night Sherlock." He said in a bitter tone that almost made him wince. God he was angry. He looked up as the blond hobbled to his room. "Good night, John." He muttered as he sat there as John closed the door to his room with a small click. There was only the sound of the rain in the living room now.

_Is he really real?_

_Can he be?_

John sat down on the bed and leaned the cane against the night stand. He laid back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling before covering his face. He was still shaking all over. It was hard for him to believe he was real. Part of him was remembering his dream and that made him think…

_It has to be a dream._

_He's not really here, is he?_

_When I get up in the morning he'll be gone._

_Like he always is._

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Sherlock sat quietly in the same spot, listening to the rain fall and trying to resist the urge to shoot up. He really, really didn't want to do that here. But he didn't know if he would be able to sleep. The only reason he had fallen asleep before was because John was in his arms. He looked over at John's door and watched it for precisely five minutes and thirteen seconds before he decided he was going to take come crack to get himself to sleep. Just a little to relax his body. He reached over in his bag and started to dig, being as quiet as he could. He was actually kind of glad Mycroft knew about his habit. He always made sure he had sterile needles. He knew he couldn't stop him, but at least he could keep him from dying. He sighed and looked down at the prepped needle. He stared at it for a few moments. Trying to decide if this was the right thing to do. He huffed a little at the silence around him. He didn't like that. The voices in his head got so noisy. Pressing the needle into his arm, Sherlock pushed the plunger down, pulling the elastic free after it was all in. He let out a small gasp and leaned his head back as he enjoyed the feeling of the high. The raven haired man slouched on the couch and tossed the needle into the bag, shoving it part way under the couch with his foot. He didn't need John knowing that he shot up. He didn't need him to know that he was on drugs at all. With a small sigh, Sherlock moved his pillow to where he wanted it before unfolding the blanket and laying down. Sherlock was really glad this was turning out to be a good high. A hallucination would not be good right now. He stared at ceiling for a while. He lost track of how long it had been before his eyes fluttered shut and he passed out. Breathing softly again.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

The door to John's room clicked softly as he opened the door. He couldn't sleep on that bed for more than a few hours. It hurt like hell. He looked around the room and it was pitch black. No tv or other sounds. Just the rain, and the sound of soft breathing. The blond could hardly believe it as he limped over to the couch with his cane. Sherlock was sleeping. Not just one of those stupid naps he use to take every now and then when he would just kind of pass out in the chair. But a full deep sleep. John couldn't help but smile a little as he sat down near him and looked over the dark haired man as he inhaled and exhaled. He was glad he didn't disturbed him when he was sleeping like this.

_Is he here?_

_Is he really there?_

_I'm not sleeping._

Moving a shaking hand forward, he lightly touched the ebony locks and tossel them a little. Letting his fingers feel of the softness below then. Just to reassure himself that he was really there. The feeling of his hair and the soft content noise that Sherlock made as he was petted, made John smile. He leaned down and very softly pressed his lips to Sherlock's. Not enough to wake him, but enough for John to feel like he kissed him. "Thank you for coming back to me." He whispered before pulling himself away from the brunette and off the couch. He grabbed the blanket from his chair and sat down covering himself. He watched as Sherlock's chest moved up and down lightly as he slept. The motion lulled John to sleep. He willing let his eyes close this time, knowing for sure that Sherlock would be there in the morning when he opened his eyes again.


	4. Chapter IV | Starting Over

**Chapter IV | Starting Over**

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open when light started to sprinkle through the stained glass of the bay window. It almost made his eyes hurt. The dark haired man turned his head towards the doctor that was sleeping in the chair. He hadn't been there when Sherlock passed out. He silently wondered how long he had been there.

_Still watching me sleep John?_

_Because you're worried about me?_

_Or…_

_Worried that I'll vanish it you don't watch?_

_I'm not leaving._

_Not again._

Tossing the thought away, Sherlock pushed himself up from the couch and groaned a little. His back kinda hurt from lying there for so long. Looking over, his placed his hands on his knees and watched John sleep. At least he looked somewhat peaceful. Maybe he could surprise him with some breakfast. Pulling himself up from the couch he groaned a little as his head spun from not only the hangover he had from getting high the night before, but the sudden pain he felt in his face from where John had hit him. Man that still hurt. Considering John probably busted his nose. He took the blanket that he had slept with and gently laid it over John, brushing some of the soft hair out of his face. He watched the blond sleep, just for a moment before heading into the kitchen. He had to use the wall to get into the kitchen. But he managed. Looking through John's fridge, he pulled out eggs and bacon for them. He could tell just by looking at him that he had lost a lot of weight. John and he could work on getting better together. He took out some pans and started to cook some breakfast for them. He would lean out the doorway every now and then to see if John was still sleeping. He hadn't even moved yet. Going back into the kitchen to cook.

He plated the food for both of them and grabbed a fork. "John?" He said walking into the room with the plate, gently shaking his shoulder. The blond started to open his eyes looking up at him. "Sherlock…? You're still here?" He said sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "And you cooked? Okay I'm dreaming. I know it now. You  _never_ cook. I didn't even know you could cook." Sherlock just smiled and handed him the plate. "Shut up and eat, you weirdo." He said as John took the plate in his hands. He watched as Sherlock went back into the kitchen.

_What's he trying to do?_

_Just like that._

_He comes back and we just what?_

_Start over?_

The detective came back with his own plate and smiled over at the former doctor. "Is it okay John?" He asked as he moved to sit down on the couch that he had been sleeping on the night before. John blinked and looking down at his plate. He took a bite of the food on his plate and a smile came to his lips. "Sherlock. This is really good. But… why did you do it?" He asked looking at him with a curious face. Sherlock's face went unreadable. "I want to start over, John." He muttered softly, keeping pale eyes on his plate. "Can we do that John?" He asked moving his eyes up to the doctor's face. His blue eyes were on the food, and they didn't move as he though the words over in his head.

_Could they start over?_

_Really start over?_

_Be together?_

"Sherlock, when you say start over what do you mean? Friends? Flat-mates? What is it you want?" He asked looking at him, a twinge of anger coming in his voice as blue eyes grabbing hold of those pale green eyes. "More, John. You and I both know that there's more there than just friendship." John put his plate down on the table and looked at him, leaning forward. "Is there, Sherlock? After you bloody left me?! All alone! For three fucking years, Sherlock! Don't you dare sit there and tell me that you lov-…" A gasp came from John as the black haired name moved over to him. He looked up at the tall man hovering above him as he gently gripped his face. "John. Before you damn me, please listen to me. I want to tell you why I did what I did. John." He leaned in and pressed his lips against the blond's who made a small noise and looked up at him. "I did it because, even though… I am the least emotive and non-sexual being in the cosmos, but, John. I love you. More than anything. Moriarty gave me an ultimatum. Either I die, or he kills every person I hold dear. That's you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. But John, it's mostly you. I've never felt this way for any person. Not ever. Since the moment I've met you, I've been attracted to you. I've wanted you. I've…John I need you." John couldn't believe his ears. He felt a twang of guilt rise in his chest as Sherlock moved down to his knees so he was close to him. "And I broke your nose… Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I… I didn't even give you a chance to explain." Sherlock gave him a sad smile as his hand rubbed over John's soft skin. "I deserved it. Really I did." John moved against and wrapped his arms around his neck and held him there.

_It's hard to believe._

_That Sherlock…_

_Loves me._

_That he told me he loved me._

_And that I…_

_Love him back._

"John." His voice was soft as the blond carded his fingers through Sherlock's dark wavy mass. "Can we then? Start over?" He muttered as he looked up at John, giving his lips a soft kiss. John felt like his breath had just been stolen from him for a moment before giving Sherlock a small smile. "You have to ask me the right way." He said looking down at those pale green eyes. "Ask me the right way and I'll say yes." Sherlock looked up and kissed him. "John Watson. Be mine?" John chuckled and smirked at him, taking his face in his hands. Lips pressing his against the other's. For the first time, kissing him first.

"I'm your's."

_This is us._

_Starting over._


	5. Chapter V | I've Got You

**Chapter V | I've Got You**

John stared at the box that was placed in his hand. Opening it a little he looked at the contents and frowned before shutting it and closing his eyes tightly taking a deep breath. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He had woken up screaming and shaking from a withdrawal. He knew he had to tell John about the addiction before it got out of hand. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt John by accident. The dark haired man shut his pale green eyes as he waited for the doctor to say something to him.

_Anything._

_Anger, maybe?_

_Most likely he would be angry._

Sudden arms around him almost made Sherlock jerk, but he soon calmed down and looked over at the blond. "Joh-…?" He was cut off when John took hold of his face and pressed his lips to him, making Sherlock squeak and turn red. They had slowly been working at affection The sudden kiss kinda threw him for a loop. But that didn't mean he didn't like it. The raven haired man looked up at John as his hands moved from his face to his own hands. "Sherlock, thank you for coming clean and telling me." He looked over at him and nodded lightly. "I don't want to hurt you a withdrawal. Will you get rid of it for me?" John nodded to him and gripped the box with both of his hands.

_John._

_The ever faithful._

_You won't ever stop believing in me, will you?_

"I'll get rid of it Sherlock. You realize this is going to be really hard right?" The raven haired man nodded to him. "Yes, I realize that. It's going to be hard and probably painful." John pulled his hand away from him and stood up. "Painful is an understatement, Sherlock. I assume you've had withdrawals before? Since you were on it before you met me. Right? How long were you on it this time?" Sherlock stopped to think for a moment. Trying to remember when he had started drugs.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

_Sherlock thudded to the ground with a groan, crying out as a booted foot slammed into his stomach. He panted and looked up when he heard the click. A gun staring him in the face. Sherlock froze. For the first time really froze. It wasn't as if he hadn't ever had a gun pointed at him, but not like this. Not when he was all alone. He didn't have anyone to protect him. No one was going to save him at the last second because no one knew where he was. If this man decided to pull the trigger right now, that would be it. Sherlock would really be dead. And for good this time._

" _Stupid boy."_

_The man growled at him. Sherlock was a boy to this man. He had to be close to seventy. He didn't even know why he was after him. Sherlock didn't know him. He's never seen him before in his life. The brunette shook his head and looked over the man trying to figure out how he could get out of this._

_Kill or be killed, Sherlock._

_Grabbing the man's pant leg he tugged it hard and fast until he tumbled to the ground with a hard thud. Scrambling the black haired man grabbed the gun and sat on his chest. He pointed the gun in his face. His hands were shaking as he gripped the gun in both hands. He swallowed hard as the man smirked at him. "Gonna shoot me, Sherlock? I would be really surprised if you did, Sherlock I would." He froze at the words. Exact words. Same words._

_No._

_No, he's not._

_He's not him!_

_He's dead!_

_So Sherlock pulled the trigger and yelped as the gun went off. He moved back off of the dead man. He had blood all over him now. He collapsed on the ground and panted. His whole body was shaking._

_That night he almost OD'd._

_Almost._

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When he opened his pale green eyes opened again he was on the floor. John was kneeling next to him, yelling and patting his face. But he couldn't hear him. Everything was so fuzzy. What the hell had happened? Why was he on the floor? "John?" He muttered and looked up at him. Sherlock moved his hand and gripped John's sleeve to lift his shaking body. "No, Sherlock. Stay down, you passed out." He said gently pushing him back down to the floor. "What the hell were you thinking about to make you have a reaction like that?" He asked, lightly running his fingers through Sherlock's soft unmanageable hair. The detective closed his eyes and shuddered a little, gripping his sleeve a little more. "About when I started again. Two years, four months, fifteen days and three hours." He rambled off the numbers as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Sherlock… you don't have to tell me love, you really don't." The black haired man pulled himself up and hugged John to his chest. "I have to tell someone. I just… can't keep it in anymore, John, I can't."

_I can't believe I pulled that trigger._

_Kill or be killed._

_Kill or be killed._

_Kill._

"John… I killed someone. But only because he shoved a gun in my face." He said looking up at the blond, who's face furrowed with worry. He didn't think Sherlock had ever killed anyone, not really. Not like this. "Sherlock…" The brunette closed his eyes and shook his head. "He would have killed me John! He had the gun in my face, I grabbed his leg and pulled him to the ground and got it from him. I-I was sitting there on his chest holding the gun to his face when he said something that pushed me over the edge… r-remember the day at the pool, of course you do you had a bomb strapped to your chest…" He muttered shaking more. John was a little weary about this.

_God what happened to you?_

"Do you remember what Moriarty said? How he would be surprised if I shot him. I almost OD'd that night John. I was  _seriously_ frightened. I don't frighten easy, you of all people know this. I watched Jim kill himself that's why I don't understand all this! But when I heard those words, you popped into my head. Was it all worth it? Going into hiding if he was still alive and could hurt you? I… shit…" He groaned and leaned down as a sharp pain raced through him.

_Withdrawals._

John felt a little panicked. He had to get rid of the drugs now. "Sherlock… stay here, I'll be right back." He kissed his forehead and yanked himself up to move as fast as he could with the cane out the door. He had to get rid of this. Arching his arm back as far as it would go he tossed the box into the lake and watched it sink. Panting lightly he moved back into the house.

"Sherlock, it's go—shit… Sherlock?" The room where the brunette had been laying on the floor was now empty. Then he heard the horrible noises from the bathroom. He slowly walked over and peeked in the open door. He was perched over the toilet, gripping his dark hair as he dry heaved into the bowl. Sherlock's stomach was cramping. He hadn't been eating and now having the urge to vomit from the withdrawal was only making the pain worse. "Oh…Oh Sherlock, come here. Come here love." He said moving to grab him. "Up now. Come on, we're going to bed." The detective did as he was hold and pulled himself up from the ground as John pulled him to the other room. The blond laid him down first and curled up next to him. Letting the tall man lay against his chest. "It's going to be okay? Alright? You're strong, you'll get through it. I'm here to help you." He nodded and gripped the blond's shirt tightly in his hands.

That had to be the longest night of John's life. He had never seen Sherlock in so much pain. Crying out from muscle pains, dry heaving. Mood swings, nightmares. But every time he would scream, John tightened his grip and buried his nose into his soft, wild hair. He only had to whisper three soft words and he would soon calm down again. "I've got you, Sherlock. I've got you. You're doing good. It'll be over soon baby. It'll be over soon, I promise." He coo'ed, gently kissing his head softly.

_I've got you._


	6. Chapter VI | Because You're Mine

**Chapter VI | Because You're Mine**

"Hey you." John smiled as Sherlock staggered into the kitchen, only in his boxers. He didn't even bother putting on his robe. He was too tired and worn out still to really function. With a small smile he moved over to John and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Are you feeling any better?" He asked petting the shaggy hair, before moving and gently cupping the bristly face. John looked over his eyes, rubbing his hands over the whiskers. He wasn't used to seeing Sherlock with facial hair. "You need to shave." He chuckled to him and moved his hands over his chin and then away from his face completely. The brunette gave him a soft nod and smiled at him. "I feel a little better. No more pain, or dry heaving. I think I might be able to eat something. I'll be shaving later. I want to thank you for everything that you did the last while." John couldn't let but let a small smile quirk at his lips. "You… are you asking me on a date?" Sherlock blinked and turned kinda red as he thought about it. He didn't realized that it was technically a date he was asking John on. He'd never asked anyone on a date before.

_Am I even doing this right?_

He looked down at John and puffed out his cheek at the pure amusement on his face. "Well Sherlock?" He asked, crossing his arms. "You look all too smug John." He teased, making John laugh. "Let me make you some breakfast then we can get ready okay?" Sherlock nodded to him and turn a bright red at the loud growl his stomach made at the mention at the food. He made displease grumble that his body betrayed him before he could deny the food.

_Oh well._

_John makes good food._

_Gives me a chance to find something for us to do out here._

Looking through the web on his phone he ran his eyes over the small food as John cooked. The blond was talking to him, but Sherlock wasn't really listening, even though he probably should have been. John couldn't expect too much from him, this was Sherlock after all. When the plate was set in front of him he locked his phone and placed it on the table, giving John a smile. The blond chuckled at him and sat down with his own plate. "So what did you find? Anything fun?" He asked picking up his fork. "It's a surprise. Wear something comfortable though." He commented with a mischievous smirk.

_That smirk was never a good sign._

_He was up to no good._

"A surprise? Should I be nervous? Remember I can't really run anymore." He comment looking down at his plate and immediately regretted his words. His shaky hand dropped the fork and moved to grip his pant leg. "Sherlock… I'm sorry I just…" He looked up over where the other man had been sitting, but he was gone. Food still untouched.

_Shit._

_Good going John._

He sighed and finished his own food. He had to eat so he could take his medication. Otherwise if they still went out tonight he would be miserable. Silently the blond hoped Sherlock would come back and try to eat. He grabbed the plate and placed it in the microwave, leaving the raven haired man a note that it was in there.

_I'm sorry Sher._

_Foods in the microwave. Please eat. You need it._

_Love,_

_John._

John went outside after that. It was nice out, not raining for once. He needed to get out of the house and Sherlock needed time to himself.

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Sherlock had wandered away from the table for a little bit. When he heard the microwave and the door to the front of the house shut, he knew what John had done. Going outside to cool off and putting the food away so it would stay warm. He always use to do that at the flat too. But he would just go down to talk to Mrs. Hudson instead. After shaving the facial hair off of his face Sherlock felt better. He wandered out and took the plate out, smiling at the note. He flipped it over and wrote something back before placing his empty plate in the sink and going to shower. The water was wonderful. Just to stand under the water and let everything wash off of him. He literally felt lighter. Climbing out of the shower he moved the towel over his skin, looking over the new marks on his skin. He had never realized how scarred he really was. Sherlock ran his long fingers over the marks on his arm and chest.

_I really did go through hell._

_I didn't even realize it._

He had been thinking about staying alive and then John. All the time John was on his mind. He couldn't help it really. John was the only person he had ever felt like this for. It was confusing before to have him on his mind constantly. Dreaming of him. Asking himself what he thought he was doing at the same moment. He understood why now.

Shaking his head a little, some of the water that was in his shaggy hair landing over his shoulders. Sherlock leaned against the sink and lifted his hair. He usually had it kind of long anyway. He pulled open the drawers until he found the scissors. Sherlock trimmed the long raven locks and smiled a little at his reflection when he was done. Sweeping the hair from the counter into the trash, he put the scissors away and walked out in his pants and open shirt.

John opened the front door and came back into the house with the mail. He stopped and looked up as Sherlock was buttoning his shirt. He paused and stared at him.

_Christ._

_I forgot how pretty he really is._

"John? Earth to John? Are you a live in there?" Sherlock was waving a hand in front of the blond's face as he came back out of his thoughts. "Whoa, when did you get there? Stop there you, git." He said in a teasing tone as he pushed his hand away. Sherlock gave him a grin and moved his hand up to move across his cheek. "Heh." John let out a small happy noise and reached up to touch his hair. "You cut your hair. Yeah?" The detective gave a nod to him. "Yeah, does it look better? Not so much shaggy bum?" He grinned at John, who just shook his head. "You look like you again. It's nice. I guess I should go get ready?" He asked pulling his hand back to himself. "Yeah, hurry so we can get going okay?" He asked letting a bright smile come to his face.

… _he's still up to no good._

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"John, keep your eyes shut, or I will blind fold you! I'm serious."

"Sherlock, my eyes  _are_ shut I swear. Just hurry up!"

Sherlock laughed a little as he held John's hand and tugged him towards the carnival. "Okay, open." John did as he was hold and blinked from the bright lights. His mouth opened as he aw'ed at the sight. "How long has it been since the last time you were at a carnival?" He asked gripping his hand and pulling him towards some of the rides. "Uhh… been a long time." He said letting a smile slip to his face this time as he got in the line with Sherlock for the ride. This was probably the most unique idea he could have come up with. John was actually really happy. Sherlock helped him onto the ride and handed the cane off to be held. He wrapped his arm around John as the ride started to move in a circle and spin. Both men yelled as they held on tightly. After getting off John got his cane and Sherlock was tugging them off to another ride. He was like a little kid.

_It's so weird to see him out of that shell._

_There's a childish side I didn't know was there._

They went on almost all the rides. Some John made Sherlock go on alone. Especially the ones that spun upside down. It was funny to watch the brunette come staggering out. He actually fell once he was so dizzy. John just laughed at him, but soon helped him up. After Sherlock fell over, they gave up on the rides and got some food and played some of the games. The brunette was not good at the games though. John won all the gun games against him. Reaching out the blond took the little otter toy and handed it over to Sherlock. He was happy to have it. Until later when John bought him another deer cap and made him wear it.

Thunder boomed over the top of them. John looked up as a drop of rain hit his nose making him shutter. "We should probably get going huh?" He asked looking over at the brunette who was shoving the deer cap into his jacket pocket and looking over at John with a smile. "Let's go for a walk. There's a little park up there." He said pointing out of the gate to a small park. John looked at Sherlock and then tangled his fingers with his. "Alright, Sherlock. Lead the way." He said following along with the raven haired man. He was slow though. Getting tired from all the running around today.

"Hey John? Think you'll come home anytime soon?"

The words caught him a little off guard as it started to rain more, starting to drench them both. "Why?" The blond asked, watching as Sherlock just shrugged his shoulders at him. "I miss you at home. I would like to start working on cases again." The thunder rumbled over them and John stopped, pulling his hand away. "Cases? Sherlock I can't help with cases. Why-…" The black haired man stopped and turned to him. "John. I still need you. I'm nothing without my blogger." John just stared at him. "Quit being stupid." John muttered and started to walk away. Sherlock ran to catch up to him, grabbing his wrist. "John, I'm not being stupid. I still want you. Please?" The blond shook his head and growled at him, turning on his heel and yanking his wrist away again. "Damn it, Sherlock! I'm of no use to you. I can't run…I can barely walk…" John panted as the rain poured down on them, drenching over both men. Blond and dark hair was sticking to both of their faces as they stare at one another. "How can you still want me when I'm useless…?" He muttered gripping the cane in his hand and closing his eyes. He didn't understand Sherlock.

" _I still want you."_

The words rang in his head over and over again, until suddenly there was silence. Not even rain as his face was lifted to lock blue eyes with Sherlock's green ones. "John. Shut up and stop being an idiot." He commented as his thumb ran over his cheek. The words weren't meant to be mean. They were just well Sherlock being Sherlock really. "John Watson. You'll  _never_  be useless to me." He said pressing his wet forehead against John's. "Because you're my John. And I will  _always_  need you. No matter what." Sherlock told him in a soft tone, gently rubbing his cheek with his thumb, before pressing his lips softly to the blond's.

Again John's breath was stolen from him.

But this time he melted into the kiss, dropping his cane and wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck. He pressed further into the kiss, letting out a soft noise as Sherlock's arms wrapped around his waist and held him up. He pulled back and looked down at him, nuzzling his forehead against his. "Sherlock…" His pale green eyes moved up and looked into the blue ones. "I love you. I'll come back. Let's just take some time to reconnect here though? Okay?" He said with a soft smile. The brunette gave him a grin and kissed him again. "I love you too. We should get home now. Don't need you getting sick." John nodded and let Sherlock keep his hand around his waist as he bent down to pick up his cane.

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John thudded down on top of Sherlock with a groan then a laugh. The cane clattered to the living room floor as he pressed himself into the brunette, with a happy hum as his lips moved against the other's. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his back and lifted him closer. John's fingers weaved into the curly hair. A gasp came from Sherlock as John's hips pressed into his. His face when red at the feeling surging through him. "John…" He panted out.

_**CRASH!** _

Both men jerked up and away from one another to look where a rock had shattered through the window. "Sher…?" John looked up at him as he slowly walked over to the broken window. "Stay there John." He said in a stern voice as he reached down and grabbed the rock, pulling away the paper that was tied to it. He hesitated before he opened it. Sherlock felt like his heart stopped, just for a split second as he looked over the messy writing on the paper. It was smeared from the water, but it was still clear to read.

" _ **I'm watching you.**_

_**-JM"** _


	7. Chapter VII | Ugly Truths

 

**Chapter VII | Ugly Truths**

 

John stood quietly and moved towards him. Sherlock dropped the rock and let it tumble to the floor, clattering. He didn’t want to admit it, but John was a little scared by the reaction that Sherlock had to reading the note. “Sherlock… What is it?” He asked lightly grasping his arm. The brunette’s green eyes went wide and he ripped his arm away from John. He turned to look at the blond but never saw him. Only one thing was flying through his mind.

 

_Moriarty._

 

John gasped a little at the violent reaction and looked over his friends face. “Sherlock? Are you okay?” He asked feeling more nervous than before. He looked like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He… well he looked like John when he had an attack from his PTSD. The blue eyes widened at the realization but all too late. Sherlock tackled him to the ground making him cry out as he hit the floor. Strong, pale hands wrapped around John’s neck, cutting off his air and making his choke. “S-Sher! S-Stop!” He called out thrashing against him, trying to get him to stop. Tan hands moved to the pale ones and gripped them hard. “Sherlock! S-Snap out of it!” He yelled only getting a growl from the brunette. He lifted John from the floor and slammed him back down, causing the doctor’s vision to black out for a moment before coming back.

 

_He’ll kill you, John._

 

_Gotta snap him out of it._

 

_Sorry, Sher._

 

John did the one thing he could think of to snap him out of it, pulling his fist back he slammed it into his jaw as hard as he could to get him off. Sherlock released him and thudded back to the ground with a hard thump. John gasped and coughed hard, trying to lift himself to look down at Sherlock. He opened his eyes and started up at the blond with a look of horror. The wound on his throat would bruise. He knew that already. “I’m… so sorry John…” He muttered to him, looking around the room again. The brunette reached over and grabbed the note as John moved closer to him. “Sherlock.” He said his name and gently took hold of his hand that had the note in it and looked over it. “He back? I thought you said he shot himself.” Sherlock nodded lightly to him and looked down at the note. “And I jumped off a building. Yet here I am.” He muttered softly moving his gaze to the blond. “John. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I have to do this alone.” He said moving his hand to grip John’s. Blue eyes moved up and shook his head. “No. I tried that last time. I can’t this time. You’re too important to me. I won’t let him take you away again.” Sherlock sighed and tossed the note to the side, his hand wrapped around the back of John’s neck and pulled him close, pressing his forehead to his. “John. If I tell you to run, no matter how badly you want to stay. How bad you want to drag me with you, if I say run, you bloody better run. Got it?” John nodded to him, he knew he would never really do that though. Not if he was in danger. There was no way he would leave Sherlock. “You’re being daft, you know? To ask me to do something like that.” He said with a small smirk as his hands moved to his face. John rubbed his thumbs over Sherlock’s cheeks, a small smiled played at his lips. “I knew you would say that John.” The brunette chuckled over at him before leaning in and pressing his lips against John, letting out a soft hum. John of course kissed him back.

 

No complaints there.

 

Except maybe that they had been interrupted.

 

“I don’t know if I can be comfortable with that window broken Sherlock.” He mumbled against his lips. The dark haired man looked over and nodded to him. “Yeah, do you have a storm window to cover it?” He asked and looked back at John, who nodded yes to him. “You do that. I’m going to go check outside. Make sure he didn’t leave anything else.” The blond nodded and waited for Sherlock to stand so he could help him to his feet. The brunette moved and held out his hand to gently pull John to his feet. But he didn’t stay there for very long. He pretty much fell into Sherlock just to keep himself up right. He gritted his teeth and panted.  The other frowned and gently moved him to sit in his chair. “John, I hurt you. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean too.” John just shook his head and smiled at him. “I fall on it a lot actually.” Sherlock only frowned and shook his head. Pulling away from John and getting an ice pack. He handed it over to him and told him to say as he wandered out into the rain with a torch. John frowned and pressed the ice pack to his hip, staying where he was.

 

Sherlock moved the flashlight from one side to the other as he looked around for anything else that was out of place. He didn’t see anything as he wandered around the house. When he came back there was a note on the front door that hadn’t been there before. He snarled and snatched it looking around for foot prints or a tire track.

 

_Fucker’s a phantom._

 

_A ghost._

 

_Both of them were._

 

_Back from the dead._

 

He frowned and looked down at the note. Neatly scribble on the front was:

 

_“Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.”_

 

Mocking, how childish.

 

He flipped it open and read over the scribbled writing. He placed the torch between his teeth so he could hold the note in both of his shaking hands.

 

_“Tomorrow 12:00 am at Inverness Leisure_

 

_I’ll be waiting._

 

**_-JM_ ** _”_

 

Sherlock grumbled something obscene under his breath before going to pull down the storm window. He slammed it harder than he meant too and frown as John yelled. “Shit, you stupid git.” He muttered at himself and moved into the house. “John?” He called and looked around the room. The ice pack was laying on the floor. “John?!” He called and moved further into the house. The back door was wide open and John’s cane laid on the floor with another note attached to it. He ran over and grabbed it to look over. His hands were shaking more.

 

_“A little extra incentive._

 

_See you tomorrow._

 

**_-JM_ ** _”_

 

Sherlock frowned and reached down to grab the cane. He moved out the door to look around, but the rain had covered any tracks that had been around there. Sherlock grabbed his hair and moved back into the house. He locked the door and slipped down leaning against it.

 

The house was so quiet.

 

Only the SHHHHH of the rain outside.

 

That was the only sound.

 

Sherlock let out a groan and buried his face in his knees as he tried to ignore the silent trigger.

 

_John._

 

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

 

John yelped as he thudded hard to the ground. “Now, boys! That wasn’t very nice.” The high pitched mocking voice made John quiver lightly. He moved and pushed himself upwards. Hands moved to grab him and lift him to his feet. “This man is a veteran. We don’t treat our military men like that, right John?” The blond looked over at Moriarty and yank his hand away from him, stumbling back a little. He had to try hard to stable himself but he finally got it. Raising his fist he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, looking down at his hand before moving his blue eyes back up to Jim’s brown ones. He just smiled at John for a moment before walking away, letting the doctor stay where he was. The blue eyed doctor watching the criminal mastermind. The moved away for a moment to watch another man who moved closer to him.

 

**SNAP!**

 

The sound was sickening as John screamed and thudded to the ground holding his now broken leg. As if he wasn’t in enough pain. Moriarty let out a wild giggled and then sighed looking over at the other men. “That’s how you treat a war hero!” He chirped and looked down at John, a wide crazy grin spread across his face as he moved closer to him, kneeling down to his level. A pale hand reached out and grabbed his chin roughly, making John’s gaze lock with his as his face went a little stoic. “Oh but that’s not right is it John? According to Sherly, there is no such thing as heroes, right? So. What does that make you?” He asked looking over his fear and pain killed blue eyes. He tugged him closer so his lips brushed against him. “I’ll tell you John. It makes you like me. Mycroft told you once that it wasn’t memories of the war that haunted you. It was the fact that you missed it. You like death. You like killing people don’t you John?” He muttered to his, letting his brown eye burn into John. If he hadn’t been in so much pain John would have slugged him.

 

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a grand idea.

 

Balling his fist, John pulled his arm back and slammed it into the side of Jim’s head, sending him flying back with a gasp and a groan. “Didn’t you ever learn that you  _really_ shouldn’t fuck with a soldier?” He growled a little and watched as Moriarty turned his face to look over at him. The look made him want to freeze, but John kept his stern face and scooted back away from him. The dark haired man moved to his feet and cracked his neck before tilting it to the side and smirking down at the blond. “I was so hoping you would do that John.” He said moving forward and pressing his foot onto the doctor’s leg, slowly applying more and more pressure making him cry out. “Tell me John. If I were to cut you up into little pieces and deliver you to Sherlock bit by bit, do you think he would lose his mind?” He asked in a sadistic tone, it was so laced with venom it almost didn’t sound him. “I think he’d kill you.” John muttered back, gritting his teeth as Jim lifted his foot and slammed it back down on to his leg, gaining a scream. “I think you’re right, but that’s only because he’s out of his mind.” He mused and stomped on the broken knee.

 

Another scream.

 

Oh, it was like music to his ears.

 

“Fuck off! He’s not crazy!” John screamed and him and swung for the brunette’s hip, Moriarty move back to avoid it easily. He swung his foot up and slammed it into John’s chin. A gasp came from his mouth as he thudded onto his back. He stared at the ceiling as his vision flashed black, then back again. His chest moved as he took harsh breaths. The kick to his face had really knocked him for a loop. Jim moved over to him. He leaned his body to the side and tilted his head down. He looked like some kind of mad owl.  “He’s losing his mind, John. He’s not the Sherlock you and I loved so much.” He smirked at him and straightened his body leaning down to his level again, grabbing his chin again, but harsher this time. It made John groan and flinch as he was forced to look into those wild brown eyes. “He tried to strangle you John. Didn’t he? When he saw my name on the paper and you touched him, he attacked him.” He gave an amused chuckle at the sight of John’s blue eyes starting to fill with tears. “W-What did you do to him?” He whimpered, working hard to get his lips to even form words.

 

Another smirk.

 

John swore if he lived through this he would smack that smirk off his face.

 

Not if.

 

He would love through this.

 

Sherlock wouldn’t let him die.

 

“You’ll find out soon enough boyo.” He said patting his face and dropping his head to the floor. “Get him cleaned up at put away. We have a date tonight, need to look our best.” Moriarty giggled, turning to look back at John, giving his head a hard kick again so this time when his vision went black it stayed black.

 

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

 

At 11:58 pm, Sherlock made his way into community center. He made sure to slip a piece of tape against the door so it didn’t latch and it he and John had to run for it they had to. Actually he knew they would have to run for it. He wasn’t going to take a chance with John’s life. Not again. Walking in cautiously, he stopped a dark lump near the pool. The closer he got, the more he could see of the figure. His heart stopped for a moment as he looked over John. He had been badly beaten, his leg was broken in several places. “John!” Sherlock called out and ran over to him, gently taking his face in his hands to lift his head. “John? John, wake up!” He called patting his cheek to gain a groan.  His heart jumped again in relief this time. “Sh—…” His voice was soft, as Sherlock reached back and to untie him from the chair.

 

“Oooh, Sherly. Who knew you were such a good husband?”

 

The voice made him freeze and looked up as John slumped into his chest. “Moriarty.” He muttered his name and gently took hold of John, helping him stand. The other brunette grinned at him. “Don’t mind John, he’s awful noisy we had to give him something to be quiet for a while. He’ll come out of it.” He said with a devilish smirk. “You know I have to admit Sherlock. You had me fooled, you really did. I was a little disappointed when I thought you were gone, but here you are. Playing my games all over again. Pool’s awful sentimental don’t you think?” He said looking at Sherlock as he tried his best to keep John on his feet. Moriarty was lucky he had to hold him up. He could feel the anger fuming through him. It was the same feeling he got when Mrs. Hudson was attacked. “Overly sentimental. How did you survive? I’m curious.” Moriarty gave him a pout. “Right to business huh? It was a blank and hidden bag of blood. Come on, you couldn’t tell it was a fake gun?” He asked smirking over at him. The thought that maybe he fooled Sherlock boosted the psychotic man’s ego. “Oh Sherlock. Blinded by love. Wasn’t it you who said that love was a danger? You didn’t take your own advice and now look what’s happened.” He opened to his mouth when he felt something. John was tugging at his coat as if he was trying to say something, slowly coming out of the drug induced daze. He looked over at him as he mouthed something to him.

 

_Run._

 

His heart quickened for a moment. “HEY! Pay attention to me, Holmes.” Moriarty growled when Sherlock’s attention was taken from him. Sherlock moved his green eyes back up to Moriarty. “Why don’t we talk about you, Sherlock. Hmm? John there has something he wants to know. About when you were in Russia.” The detective visible tensed at the when the subject was brought up. “If John wants to know I’ll tell him later.” He retort and Jim growled again stomping his foot like an angry child. He moved closer to Sherlock and he jerked back, bringing John with him who whimpered at the feeling. “I want to see his face though when he hears it.” He said watching the two. “No? Fine, I’ll tell him.” John lifted his head and pushed himself away from Sherlock as Jim started to speak again. “Some of my men followed dear Sherlock after he left and caught him. They kept him locked in a cell day and night, no window, minimum food and water. Then they would take him out and torture him when he was too weak to fight back. I even showed up sometimes, but he was so out of it he didn’t realize it.  Then one day the kitty got away. I don’t think he even realized how many people he killed trying to get out. Do you know how many Sherlock?” He asked looking up at the pale brunette who seemed to be getting paler, the more was said.

 

_Oh this is too fun._  

 

Moriarty grinned and stared at him, walking a little closer to him. “All together it was twenty-three. Well, technically it was twenty-four. With the old man you killed. You though he was after you? Oh Sherlock. Sometimes you’re profoundly stupid!” He screamed and let out a mad giggle. “He bumped into you and you lashed out on him! You killed an innocent man!” Sherlock looked like he was going to vomit at the works.

 

_No._

 

_I—…_

 

_I didn’t…_

 

“You’re a liar.” He muttered back as John gripped his coat to stay standing. He was staring at him. There was no way that Sherlock would ever kill someone in cold blood.

 

_Was there?_

 

_John he almost killed you early, don’t you remember?_

 

John shook his head and tried to get Sherlock’s attention back. “S-Sher…” Moriarty stared at them before starting to back away. “You almost killed John Sherlock. Actually, you have killed him.” He smirked and vanished from sight. The detective furrowed his brow as the other men left. Like he was trying to figure out what he meant. But the words were still ringing in his head.

 

_You killed an innocent man._

 

_You almost killed John._  

 

Finally John got his voice to work and grabbed Sherlock’s attention. “Joh—?” He was cut off when the blond yelled. “It’s a bloody trap!!” Green eyes went wide at the word. 

 

“A trap?”

 

**BANG!**

 

The building around them exploded in a fiery blaze as bomb after bomb started to go off. Sherlock wrapped his arm around John as they were tossed into the water. 


	8. Chapter VIII | Trapped in the Inferno

**Chapter VIII | Trapped in the Inferno**

**_Please don't go, I want you to stay_ **

**_I'm begging you please, please don't leave here_ **

**_I don't want you to hate;_ **

**_For all the hurt that you feel,_ **

**_The world is just illusion, trying to change you._ **

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

 

John broke the surface of the water and gasped for air. His vision was blurred from inhaling all the water when he was pulled into the pool. Dark shapes all over and bright flashes. There were loud crashes all around him. Things were falling in the water, making him cover his head. He gripped the edge of the pool and held himself up. His vision slowly started to clean as he frantically looked around the pool. “Sher…” He muttered his name quietly trying to get his lungs to work. Blue eyes scanned the water again. “Sherlock! Sherlock, where are you?!” He yelled against moving away from the wall. He shoved heavy pieces of wood away to get more water to view. “Sherlock!” He yelled again, covering his head as more debris fell into the water. “Sher--…!” He stopped when he spotted the dark hair, floating almost face down in the water.

_No._

_Oh, Jesus no._

_Not again._

“Sherlock!!” He called making his way over to the brunette. There was blood all over in the water. Giving the chlorine a strange color. Wrapping his arms under Sherlock’s and use his good leg to bounce his way to the shore. He laid Sherlock on his back and looked over his body, inspecting any wounds he could see. There was a head would, that was still bleeding. There were some gashes on his chest but nothing life threatening. Pressing his fingers to his pulse on his throat, the blue eyes went wide when he felt nothing. Quickly he started chest compressions. The adrenaline running through him, made him forget that his leg was broken.

_1._

_2._

_3._

_4._

_5._

_Breath._

He sat for a moment and pressed his fingers to his pulse again. There was still nothing.

_God damn it, Sherlock!_

He cursed in his head and started them again. He probably did it five times until the brunette finally gasped and coughed up the water. John felt a surge of relief run through him. Quickly he turned Sherlock on his side, so he could get the water out and not choke on it. “There, there you go, you’re okay.” He coo’ed softly, moving behind him so his head was laying on his good leg. John lightly moved the dark soaked locks from his face and took deep breaths. “Sherlock? Can you hear me love?” He asked waiting for the green eyes too open.

_Please._

_Please open them._

Finally they did open. Pale green, unfocused eyes moved until they became focused. He didn’t say anything though. John felt a pang of worry when nothing came from Sherlock. He didn’t ask if he was okay or what happened. Usually that was the first thing out of his mouth. “Sherlock?” John said in a soft voice as he looked down at him, stroking the dark, blood matted hair away from his face. “J-John…” He whispered out his name. God it was weak sounding. The sirens were getting closer, louder. “Are you okay John?” He finally asked, John nodded frantically glad to hear the question. “Yes, I’m fine. How are you feeling Sherlock can you tell me?” He needed to know what Sherlock was feeling so he could assess what needed to be done. To tell the paramedics when they got here. He just gave John a smile and leaned his head back a little. “I’m pretty numb, can’t move my body at all.” John felt a twinge of fear run through him. “You’ll be fine. They’re comin--…” He was cut off when more of the flaming ceiling started to come down around them. John laid his torso over Sherlock to protect him from anything that might hit them.

“John…”

He pulled back and looked down at him. The smile had gone. That was never good. “What is it?” He asked fighting his own emotions. He knew he shouldn’t think about it but the thought that Sherlock might be dying terrified him. “Remember what I told you? That if I said run, you have to do it.” John frowned and shook his head. “Remember I said I wouldn’t do that.” Sherlock tried to take a deep breath and his chest hitched as he fought to get it out, making John panic. “L-Listen to me. You can’t carry me and I know I can’t move. They won’t find us unless y-you tell them I’m in here John.” The blond felt his lip quiver as he looked down at him. He was right, as always. But he didn’t want to admit it. “S-Sherlock… I can’t leave you in here all alone…” He muttered softly as tears welled in his eyes. The other man gave him a soft smile. “I know you’ll come back John. I’ll be okay for a little while, just try to hurry.” John leaned down and pressed his forehead to Sherlock’s and choked up a little. “I don’t want to leave you.” The brunette closed his eyes as he felt John’s tears on his face. “I know, but I don’t want to die so you have to do this John. I believe in you. Just like you did me all those years.” The doctor pulled back and looked down at him. He pressed his lips to his and shook a little before parting. “I’ll hurry.” He said pulling back from him. The siren were so loud, he knew they were almost here. Pulling his coat off he and shakily folded it, laying it under Sherlock’s head before looking around. There was a pipe on the ground that he could use as a cane to help him walk with his leg. John managed to pull himself up from the ground and started to walk away from Sherlock. He stopped and looked back at his lover who was laying there. He gave John an encouraging smile, before the blond started to make his way out of the building.

It was really hot.

Fire everywhere around him as he walked and made his way towards the door, he had to get to it. He could hear the men yelling outside, covering his mouth John made his way out, running the best he could out the door, slamming to the ground with a groan. There was loud chattering as he coughed trying to get the smoke out of his lungs. “Oh, shit John!” He heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Lestrade. “Greg! Greg, Sherlock’s still inside! You gotta get him out, I think he’s dying. He’s got a really bad head wound and can’t move.” The gray haired man looked at John in horror and then up at the building, shouting for someone to go in and get him. “Where is he John?” He asked as the blond was tugged from the ground. He cried out and laid his hand on his leg. “The pool, on the incline.” He nodded and yelled again, some of the fireman going in as John was gently sat on the ambulance, the EMTs looking over his leg.

_Oh god._

_We’re gonna be okay._

_They’re gonna get him out._

_He’ll be okay._

**“LOOK OUT! She’s coming down!”**

The words made John’s heart stop as he looked up, and in slow motion the whole building started crumble down. “No, no, no, no! Sherlock!! No!” He didn’t know when but he launched himself up and was grabbed by Lestrade to stay back as it fell down. “John, don’t!” He tried to hold him back as he fought against him. He was desperate.

_I can’t lose him again._

_Don’t take him away again._

_Dear God, don’t take him away._

John couldn’t keep himself composed. He couldn’t. He crumbled against Lestrade as he held him up to make sure he didn’t fall. “No… Sherlock.” He muttered softly, gripping Greg’s shirt as he cried. “God, no, not again.” His body was shaking as he was held.

_No._

_I can’t do this again._

_I’ll die this time._

There was a faint voice and some yelling coming from the building, suddenly the EMTs were running towards a figure coming out. John looked up and saw him dragging someone behind him. All of a sudden all the air left him.

_Sherlock._

He pulled away from Greg and limped as fast as he could over to the man. Lestrade followed behind John. He was holding his breath, he didn’t know if Sherlock would be alive when they got over to him. The blond stopped and looked over at Sherlock, his eyes were closed and he was still bloodied. The sight made him flash back to the day Sherlock jumped off the building.

He knew now it wasn’t him but of god, it still hurt so much to remember.

“I-Is he…?” He asked almost silently as the EMT shook his head and smiled. “He’s still alive, barely but he’s alive. We gotta go now though.” John nodded to him and had Lestrade help him. “John, you should really ride in the other ambulance.” The blond just shook his head and climbed in, sitting down and taking Sherlock’s hand in both his. “I can’t leave him. I told him I’d come back.” He said bringing it to his lips and kissing it. One of the EMTs told Lestrade to back up. He did as he was told and they shut the doors, speeding away.

 

_Don’t die Sherlock, don’t die._


	9. Chapter IX | Please Don't Go

**Chapter IX | Please Don’t Go**

 

John limped along the stretcher holding Sherlock’s hand as they rushed him in. He was trying to listen to the doctors as they chattered quickly. Someone pulled his hand away from the brunette’s and he let out a verbal noise of displeasure. “Please, please! I’m a doctor, I can’t leave him alone…!” He tried pleading with the nurse to let him go with Sherlock but she shook her head. “You can see him right away when they get him stable. Come on, we have to fix you up.” He whimpered and nodded to him. “I… okay…” He gave in. The adrenaline running through him was slowly fading away, making every pain that he had been able to ignore come back at once. The nurses sat him in a wheel chair just as Greg showed up to check on them. He followed John as far as they would let him go.

Greg had to wait a long time for John to come back. His leg was badly broken but it should heal fine as long as he was careful with it. His shoulder where he had been shot was broken as well, probably from hitting the bottom of pool they said. All the other wounds were just small cuts. There were only two that needed stitches. One of the nurses rolled him out to Lestrade who jumped up and ran over to him. A worried look on his face. “John! Oh my god, are you okay?” The blond lightly smiled up at him and nodded. The nurse locked the wheels and moved away. As soon as she was gone John looked up at Lestrade, his face filled with worry. “Sherlock? Have they come out and told you anything?” The silvered haired man frowned and looked down as he shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Greg…?” John pushed until he took a deep breath and moved around the chair, unlocking the wheels and rolling him down the hall. John knew they were going to see him, so he didn’t bother asking where they were going or what Greg was doing. He stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door. The sight took his breath away.

There he was.

Bandage wrapped tightly around his dark hair a blanket over the rest of him. He was hooked up to machines to help him breath. Brain activity and a heart monitor. The steady pips were the only thing telling him that Sherlock was alive. “John…I’m really sorry. They came out and told me when you were still getting looked at. He’s in a coma… they said he got a really bad head wound and smoke inhalation. They don’t…” He stopped and took a deep breath, lightly gripping John’s shoulder. “They don’t think he’ll wake up.”  John wanted to scream. But at the same time, he was at a loss of words. Greg opened his mouth to say something, but ended up having to hold the chair still as John yanked himself up and limped as fast as he could to bed as fast as he could. Lestrade frowned as he watched the blond. His free hand moved and gripped Sherlock’s, bringing it to his mouth and pressing soft kisses over it. “Sherlock… Sherlock, baby can you hear me? Wake up sweetie…” He begged, dropping his hand and scooting closer. He gently pressed his head to the bandaged forehead and took a deep breath before sobbing lightly. “Sher… you gotta wake up… come on.” Greg moved over and slowly touched his shoulder again. “John… I know it’s hard. But this is Sherlock. You know how many times he’s hit that head of his and still was clever enough to deduce something or insult Anderson? He’ll pull out of this… just have faith in him.” John pulled back from the brunette and moved one strand of dark hair to the side. He took a deep breath and nodded to him, moving his hand to grip Sherlock’s again. “Yeah… I didn’t give up for three years when everyone else thought he was dead… I won’t give up this time. He’ll come out of it.” He said looking down at him. But something ate at him. At the back of his mind.

_What if he doesn’t, John?_

_What if he dies?_

_What if he never wakes up and you have to make the call to pull the plug?_

_Can you really do that?_

_Are you strong enough?_

_Will you kill yourself this time if he dies for good?_

He growled inwardly at the thoughts and shook his head lightly, moving from the bed to a soft chair. He leaned against the bed, gripping his pale lifeless hand, giving it a soft kiss.

_Bugger off._

_This is Sherlock._

_He can’t die._

_Please, please don’t go._

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

It had been five days now and Sherlock still wasn’t showing any sign of waking up. John hadn’t left, only to use the bathroom and maybe wash up a couple of times. Lestrade would bring him food. He would shoo away the doctors and nurses when they tried to walk to him about his health or convince him to go home. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He made the mistake of leaving Sherlock once when he was told to and now look where he was.

Hooked up to machines to make him breath.

Stuck in a coma.

Laying there lifelessly, because there was no way to get him out of it until his brain healed enough to let him come out on his own. On his own time. John laid his head on the bed, still holding Sherlock’s hand in his. Lestrade peeked in and sighed. He moved over to John and gently laid the bag of food on the nightstand before gently shaking the blond’s shoulders. “John. You need to eat something. You haven’t all day.” He informed as he opened his blue eyes and pushed himself up with a soft groan. He knew he was right but he wasn’t really hungry yet. Greg had been making sure that John had been eating at least once a day. Rubbing Sherlock’s pale hand he pulled his hand away and rubbed it over his fuzzy face and eyes. “Is there any change with him John? Anything at all?” John frowned a little and shook his head no. “Nothing. Not even a twitch. God, I just want him to open his eyes. Squeeze my hand. Anything.” He said with a slight crack to his voice. God his eyes were watering again. He had been trying his best not to cry in front of Lestrade. Most nights it wouldn’t hit until he woke up with a jolt and tried to say Sherlock’s name, only to get no response from him. It was hard to deal with.

“John, are you sure you don’t want to go home and rest? Or maybe I could get them to bring you a couch or something. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You off all people must know that.” John just shook his head. “I’m fine. Really I am.” He said giving his friend a reassuring smile. Well as reassuring as he could. Lestrade sighed and held out a cup of coffee. “I swear you got more stubborn when you got with him.” He teased with a soft smile. John took the cup and looked at him before weakly laughing. “Mmm, I did get a bit worse with him. I’ve always been stubborn though. You can ask Harry about that one.” Greg laughed a little and plopped in a nearby chair. “Never pegged you for the stubborn type, John.” He said with a small smirk playing at his lips. John shook head and took a drink of his coffee. “Oh I was hellion. A tiny hellion, but a hellion. There was this one time that I---…”

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP!_ **

The louder warnings made John drop his hot coffee to the floor. Sherlock’s heart monitor had gone flat. “Shit!” John yelled and hit the emergency button as he looked down at Sherlock. He wanted to start compressions, but his damn shoulder was busted. He couldn’t move it.

**“Code blue, room E 239, code blue, E 239**

_I can’t help._

_Sherlock._

_I’m sorry._

_I can’t help you._

Lestrade moved over to him, dropping his coat to soak up the coffee so no one fell. He grabbed John and pulled him back away from Sherlock as the nurses and doctors came in, yelling for different things. “Out, I’m sorry you have to get out.” The nurse told the two men shoving them away and out of the room. Greg kept his arms wrapped around John’s waist as he watched. Completely in shock. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move or even cry. At least not from when Lestrade could see.  “John… he’ll be okay. They’ll help him.” He muttered trying to be reassuring as they watched the doctors. John pressed his hand to the glass and whimpered, tears starting to roll out of his eyes.

“Sherlock… please don’t go…”


	10. Chapter X | The White Room

**Chapter X | The White Room**

Sherlock stood off to the side, as he watched the doctors and nurses work on his body. Doing different things he didn’t understand. Everything was moving so slow. He backed up a little out of the way and gasped as someone ran through him. He coughed and leaned over as he tried to catch his breath.

_“What the hell?”_

He muttered out and looked around. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. He turned and looked at the door that had just shut and saw Lestrade holding John as he started to fall apart. His hand pressed against the glass of the door and his head down.

Sobbing.

Sherlock moved closer and gently raised his hand to hover over the glass where John’s hand was. He pressed it forward, but it went right through, making him recoil and look at the blond with sad eyes. _“John… I don’t understand what’s happening. Help me.”_  But John didn’t hear him. Greg moved away from the glass and pressed his face to his chest.

_John._

_Help._

Suddenly all the loud noises in the room went silent. Not just the room. Everything around him. There was no sound, like he had just suddenly gone deaf. Taking a deep breath Sherlock walked through the door with a soft pant. He looked at John as he held onto Lestrade for dear life. Something caught his attention. His name, being called by a familiar voice and a very, very bright light. He turned his attention to look where it was coming from. The wall at the end of the hall was illuminating. Sherlock looked over at John and then back at the wall.

Should he go in there?

He didn’t want to leave but…

_Sherlock._

The familiar voice called to him again.

Who was it?

So, Sherlock walking into the light.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

The raven haired man groaned at the bright light, raising his arms up and covering his eyes as he looked around. He knew this was where he had heard the voice. But where was the person who called to him. “Hello? Are you still here?” He called as he moved forward a little. “Sherlock. I’m glad you finally came in.” He blinked at the voice. He sounded close to Mycroft’s but not quite. He couldn’t remember who it belonged to, until he saw him. Tall and slender with dark wavy hair like his. “Dad?” He squinted his eyes and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes. “Where am I?” The older man laughed and raised his hands to gesture to the room. “The white room.”

_The white room?_

_What the hell is the white room?_

Sherlock arched a brow and huffed a little. “Well obviously but what--…” He was cut off when he looked over to where his father had been standing, only to see him gone. “The white room is the place your soul goes when you are between life and death Sherlock. You’re dying, right now. In that room.” He said and reappeared pointing down. Pale green eyes looked and he saw where his body was laying on the bed. “Why am I in here then? If I’m dying that is?” The dark haired man smiled and pointed against, this time to John. “Because of that man. And how you feel about him. And how me feels about you. Never before in your life Sherlock, have you ever felt the way you feel for John Watson. Never. I know I’ve been watching.” The thoughts flying around in his head were telling him this was impossible. That it was a comma induced night terror. “Okay… so we’ve establish I love John. Does that mean I get to live?” His voice was short and had a tiny bit of sass to it. The older man arched a brow and moved closer to him. “Sherlock, do you know why you’re where you are in the first place? Do you remember what happened? What happened to John and you?” Sherlock was taken a back at the question. He had to walk away and think for a couple moments before he could really remember what had happened. “Moriarty?” He asked even though he knew that was right. Everything was flooding back to him now. “Why are you asking me this?” A sigh came from the other man as he moved closer to him. “Moriarty told you, the first time he met you. “No one gets to me, and no one ever will.” You need to take that seriously Sherlock. He will kill you. If you have something to live for with John, you’ll stop pursuing him.” Sherlock stared at him for a long moment. He didn’t know what to think about the information.

_If you have something to live for with John…_

_Stop pursuing him._

Could he really do that? Just ignore Moriarty and he’ll go away? Sherlock didn’t know if that would work or not. He looked up at his father and bit his lip. “I love John. But is he going to be safe if we just try to forget about Moriarty? I mean really… We didn’t even do anything this time and he came after us.” The tall man shook his head. “Listen to me. Pursue him and you will die.” The words didn’t make sense. Was he trying to tell him something else? Like, was he supposed to let Moriarty some to him? He didn’t understand and his mind was so muddled in this place. The white room was making it hard to think and now things were getting brighter all around him.

_What the hell?_

“Go back Sherlock. And remember what I told you.”

Sherlock squinted his eyes and arched a brow at his father as his vision started to be taken over by the white light all around him. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, his father was gone.

A blinding flash followed.

Then he gasped.

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“Son of a bitch! We got him!” The doctor called as Sherlock let out a loud gasp and started coughing for hair. “J-Joh—…” He tried hard to make his vocal cords work but his throat felt so dry.  The doctor smiled and looked over at the window. Lestrade looked up and nudged the blond. “John… John they got him back!” He called and pointed to where the brunette laid on the bed, his pale green eyes flickering around trying to find the blond doctor. John was at a loss for words. He pulled away from Lestrade and limped as quick as he could into the hospital room. The doctors and nurses moved out of his way, letting John grab Sherlock. He was holding him as tightly as he could with one arm. “You bastard! I am so mad at you!” He yelled as Sherlock slowly moved weak arms around his lover’s back.

_Oh my dear Watson._

“Don’t you ever, _ever!_ Do that to me, _again,_ Sherlock Holmes! Never again! I’ll kill you myself if you ever do something so stupid as die on me again…” His voice faded out as he started to sob into the brunette’s shoulder. He was angry, really angry and really scared. But the think John felt most…

_Relief._

He had never been so relieved in his life. Not even the moment Sherlock showed up on his door step after three years of thinking he was dead. “Sherlock… you’re so stupid. God damn it! You’re such and idiot… you’re an idiot, Sherlock…” He muttered to him as he gripped the hospital gown the other man was wearing. A soft chuckle came from his lips as he gently raised his tear stained face to look at his. “John… I’m you’re idiot.” He whispered in a soft raspy voice as he pressed his lips against the blond doctor’s feeling him quiver a little. John pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s and held his face in his hands. “Damn right you’re my idiot. I love you so fucking much.” He growled fighting between anger and happiness. Letting a small smile play at his lips, he kissed John again. “I love you too, John.” He let out a sigh and laid against his chest, face buried in his neck. “Don’t ever do that again.” He muttered again as he curled around Sherlock’s broken body with his own. The brunette merely smiled and kissed his head. “I’ll try not to. I’ll try.” But he couldn’t help but remember his father’s words over and over in his head.

_If you have something to live for with John, stop pursuing him._

_What did you mean?_

_Were you even my father, really?_

_What was the white room?_

_It doesn’t matter right now._

_Nothing matters right now._

_Just him._

_Just my Watson._

_My John._


	11. Chapter XI | Those Two Words

**Chapter XI | Those Two Words**

Home again to 221 B Baker street.

John never thought that he would have been so happy to see the flat. The house in Scotland was nice but this, this was really home. It took a long time for Sherlock to heal all the way. Well as much as Sherlock would allow. He didn’t like hospitals and he refused to stay the entire time. But it was really nice to be home. John had to use crutches around the house. His leg had been badly broken. They only stayed in the hospital for a month; he would be on the crutches for another four months, at least. But Sherlock was good about helping him. He had been good about eating and helping John when he needed it. John couldn’t help but think it was funny down Sherlock doted on him. It was a little strange really. He had just been told by him to sit as he made coffee and breakfast. He watched from the kitchen table with his head cocked to the side. Mostly thinking to himself.

_What the hell happened to make him change so much?_

_It was like, something scared him._

_But what?_

“Sherlock?” He finally voiced as the brunette limped over and placed the plate down in front of him. “Yes, John?” He asked moving back to the stove as he started cooking his own food. The blond bit his lips as he tried to think of a way to word what he wanted to say to him. He wasn’t sure how to ask him though. “John?” He asked again as the eggs sizzled in the pan. John looked down at his plate and poked at it lightly.  He was lost in his head, trying to get a grip of what he wanted to say. What he wanted to really ask him.  Sherlock flipped his eggs and let them fry for a little bit before plating them before moving the pan off the burner. He moved away from the stove and pressed his cool hand against John’s forehead, making him jerk and almost fell out of his chair. Pale hands reached out and grabbed his shoulders to stop the chair from tipping back with him in it. “John? Are you okay?” He asked looking him over a little nervously.  John pulled himself out of his thoughts and gently grabbed his arms with both of his hand, gently gripping the dress shirt he was wearing and leaning his head down, trying to get his breath. John scared himself. To the point of almost having a panic attack.  “John? John, are you okay? Breath, baby… deep breaths.” He coo’ed as his arms wrapped around the blond and yanked him close, gently petting his hair. “You’re okay John.” He said softly rubbing over his back. He knew John was worked up about something. He had been acting this way for a couple days now. And it wasn’t just his PTSD. It was more than that.  “It’s okay… take a moment. Breath.” John did as he told, gripping the sleeves for a few minute. One finally deep breath and he pulled away, locking blue eyes with those green ones in front of him. “Sherlock, I have a question. It might be something a little touchy with you but I need to know… did you see anything or hear anything?” Sherlock frowned as he looked over John. He grabbed a chair and pulled it over to John and took his hands in his own. “I did. It was strange. I could see you. Called out for you to help me, but you couldn’t hear me. Then at the end of the hall all of a sudden it was glowing like… if someone shined a flashlight in your eyes when you were sleeping and it just blinds you.” He tried to explain it the best he could remember.  “The whole reason I went in, was because I kept hearing my name.  And when I went in I saw my father. Now John, he’s been dead since I was seven, it was weird… to stand there and talk to him after knowing he’s been dead for almost twenty-five years.” Sherlock looked over at John as he listened to him. His blue eyes intently fixed on his face. “What did he say Sherlock?” He asked, keeping his eyes on his as Sherlock looked away. “I don’t remember everything… but…”

_“If you have anything to live for with John, stop pursuing him.”_

John moved his hand to touch his dark hair. Silently telling him if he couldn’t remember it was okay, but finally Sherlock sat up and looked at up at John. His eyes were somber, like it was hard to say. “He was telling me something about Moriarty, and that if I wanted a life with you, or had anything to live for with you, I need to stop pursuing him. I told him okay and he sent me back to you.” Pale eyes moved back to John’s face as he started at him.  The blond looked over at him and a small smile came to his lips. “You… have something to live for with me then?” Sherlock laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I do.  You’re not interested about the thing with Moriarty?” John nodded and motioned to his leg. “Trust me, if I _never_ have to see that bastard again, I will die a happy person.” He said with a soft huff. Sherlock smiled over at him and leaned forward to kiss his lips. “John, can I give you something?” The doctor moved his eyes up and nodded to him. “Yeah, okay?” He said, watching Sherlock pull himself up from the chair and wander towards his bed room. “Close your eyes John.” He said with a small smile as he vanished from sight. John did as he was told and closed his eyes, waiting for the brunette to come back.

_What was he up too?_

He could hear the padding of Sherlock’s socked feet against the floor as he made his way back to him. He took his hand and placed something in it. “Open.”  The blond did as he was told and opened his eyes, gasping as he looked at the gold ring in his hand. “Sherlock…” He muttered softly as he looked up at the detective who smiled at him.  “It was my father’s. My mother said I could either keep it or give it to someone I wanted to have it. And that’s you.”

_Me?_

_Does he really mean what I think he’s asking?_

“Sherlock, what are you asking me?” He asked looking up at the brunette as he held the ring in his hand. He moved his fingers to look at a little better. Sherlock let out a laugh. “Oh John, don’t be dull. Are you really going to make me ask?” John gave him a sassy smirk. “Bloody right I’m going to make you ask.” He sighed and took the ring from his hand and moved down on to one knee. “Sentiment, right?” John smiled and nodded to him. “Yes, I want to remember this.” He said looking down at the dark haired detective who just rolled his eyes. He looked so nervous and it made John smile a little knowing that he was really trying. “John Hamish Watson, I’ve loved you since… well probably since the first time we talked. I just couldn’t tell because emotions aren’t my strong suit you know that.” Sherlock stopped and cursed inwardly at himself.

_Babbling._

He looked up at John again and huffed a little at the smirk on his face. “You’re enjoying this too much, stop.” The blond couldn’t stifle himself and let out a snicker. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He laughed a little and nodded to him after composing himself. “Keep going Sherlock, you’re doing well.” He bit his lip to keep from smiling too much and making the raven haired man more nervous. Sherlock let out a sigh and composed himself. “You’ve killed for me and I’ve died for you. When Moriarty told me my friends would die, you were the first person I thought of. The first name out of my mouth. I came back and we survived again and now…” He sighed and took John’s hand, giving it a soft and slightly awkward peck. “John, I want to spend the rest of my like with you. So… will you marry me?” He asked, pale green eyes moving up to those blue ones. He could get lost in those eyes. John moved his hand and gently took hold of his hand. “Of course I’ll marry you, you dafty. On one condition.” He said in a rather stern voice, making Sherlock look up as he slide the ring on his finger. “What th--…” He gasped softly as John wrapped his arms around him tightly and held him there against his chest. “No more dying.” He muttered as he buried his face into his shoulder. Sherlock smiled and nuzzled the soft blond hair.

“Promise. No more dying.”

“Better keep that promise or I’ll end you myself.”

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“Mrs. Hudson! Can you please help me with this bloody tie?!” Sherlock growled from in front of the mirror as he tried to get the tie to work with him. He wasn’t use to wearing them and he was never good at tying them. “Do I have to wear this think?” He asked looking at the older woman with a huff. She walked over and took the tie and started to fix it. “Sherlock, this  is your wedding, of course you have to wear it.” She looked up at him and smiled as she tucked it in and fixed his coat. “There. Oh Sherly, I’m so happy for you and John.” She said patting his cheek with a soft smile. He hummed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for filling in for my mother, since she decided she’s still angry at me.” Mrs. Hudson gave a small smile. “You and John are just like sons to me. Both of you are virtually without parents so, here I am.” She laughed a little and Sherlock gave her a soft smile, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Martha. You are the best mother and child or grown man could as for.” He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead as someone knocked on the door. He looked over to see John’s sister, holding her daughter’s hand. “We’re all ready.” Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath.

_I can do this._

He gave Mrs. Hudson’s hand a gently squeeze before he moved out of the room. It was a tiny chapel, they really didn’t have very many people there. But John and he didn’t have a lot of family so it was nice just to have something small. Walking out he stood where was supposed to as John came out of the other room and smiled at him. “Wow, got the tie to work huh?” He teased a little making the brunette roll his eyes. “Barely. Mrs. Hudson tied it for me.” He chuckled a little and looked over him. “You look nice, John.” Sherlock comment as he reached out for John’s hand, gently lacing they’re fingers together. “So do you, Sherlock. Are you ready?” He swallowed hard and nodded to him. “As I’ll ever be.” The words gained a reassuring squeeze from the blond as the wedding stared. It went smoothly, although Sherlock wasn’t really listening to the pastor. He was occupied on watching John, playing with his fingers, anything to distract himself and stay somewhat calm. Then finally the part they were waiting for.

“Sherlock Holmes, do you take John Watson as your partner?” The words were simple enough, he only caught about half of them because he was too busy staring at John. He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Of course I do, what a stupid question.” Everything went silent and he looked around and then back at John. “Not good?” The blond laughed and looked over at the pastor. “He means yes, just keep going.” The man nodded and cleared his throat, asking the blond the same series of questions. John nodded and smirked at Sherlock as he said those two words. Those two special words that would now bound them forever.

“I do.”


	12. Chapter XII | First Day as a Daddy

**Chapter XII | First Day as a Daddy**

“John… are you sure… like, really, really sure about this? Because… what if I mess up? Like big time, Joh--…” A finger pressed against his lips to silence him. Green eyes flashed over John as he bit his lip. “You want a family right? Well to do that we have to talk about this. Do we want to adopt or use a surrogate mother?” He asked moving his hand to gently take Sherlock’s in his hand. “And you won’t mess up. I’ll be right here to help you. You’ll be a good father Sherlock.” The brunette sighed and played with the ring on John’s finger. “How do you know?” He asked looking at his hand as he turned the piece of jewelry. John’s hand’s moved and gently cupped his face. “How do you know you won’t be? Parenthood is trial and error. I think we’ll be fine. I’ve been around Harry’s little ones long enough to be able to know what to do here and there. And we have Mrs. Hudson to help. So why not? I mean… I think we would be good parents.” He was trying to sound convincing but he was having a having a really hard time getting Sherlock to believe him. The brunette looked down and let go of John’s hand, scooting back away from him. “You’ll be a good parent, John. Not me.” He stood up and walked out of the bedroom leaving John sitting here with a rather dumb founded look on his face. The blond let out a sigh and looked down at his hands.

_Sherlock…_

He waited for a while, sitting there trying to figure out how he could talk to him about this. Sherlock was the one who brought up having a child first anyways. Now he was scaring himself into thinking that he couldn’t do it. Letting out a sigh John pulled himself up and moved out of the room. He looked around the flat silently until he found Sherlock in his sulk position on the couch. Feeling a small smile come to his lips at the sight, he moved over to him and lightly touched the wavy hair. “Sherlock, you’re working yourself up.” He said sitting next to him and massaging his scalp a little, managing a happy purr from him.

_There we go._

That usually always worked on him. Sherlock was like a big kitten most of the time. Leaning down, the doctor kept his fingers moving in the soft dark hair. He placed a soft kiss against his ear, gain a small shiver from him. “Please talk to me about this, love.” John whispered to him. Silence for a little while. Just a little bit, before a sigh came from him and turned to look at John. “Talk.” He muttered as his green eyes locked at the blue ones. John raised a brow at him and sighed. “Sherlock, you were the one who brought it up first. I hadn’t even thought about having children until _you_ asked. Now it’s like your backing out because you’re unsure if you’ll be a good parent? That you won’t be prepared?” He spoke in a strict voice.

Army voice.

Commanding voice.

The kind of voice that actually made Sherlock listen to him. Slowly the brunette raised himself from the couch and looked over John’s face. He was right about that. He had gotten cold feet after asking John what he thought about having children. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again as John spoke once more. “Sherlock, I’m gonna tell you right now, no parent is ever ready for a child. So many unseen things can come with children. Illnesses, disabilities, talent, intelligence…” He paused as he said the last word, moving his hand to lightly brush some of the dark curls out of his face. Sherlock let a small smile pull at his mouth as he listened. “But… they are so worth it. They give you so much happiness, so many good times. They make you proud, they make you cry. They make life worth it. So… will you give this a shot with me? Be a parent with me?” His hand moved down and gently caressed over his cheek bones. The detective closed his eyes and leaned his head into John’s hand, nuzzling his palm before giving it a soft kiss. “Okay… but John, I don’t want to adopt.  I want one of our own. A child who’s going to look like us. Act like us.” John smiled and gently wrapped his hand around the raven haired man’s head and pulled him close, pressing his forehead against his before he spot again. “Then I’ll look into getting a surrogate. And we’ll have one of our own. Sherlock, listen. All you can do is love this child as much as you love me, if not more. As love as you love them and they know you love them, you’ll be a good parent. Because love is all that counts in the end.” Sherlock looked up at him, moving his hand to the back of John’s. Threading his fingers up through the blond hair. “I don’t know if I can love anyone more than I love you John.” He muttered as his lips softly pressed against the blond’s. They stayed there for a long moment. Making it all the more meaningful to him. When he pulled away John smirked at him.

“You say that now, but just wait until you see them.”

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When the baby was born, John went to the hospital and helped deliver him. Sherlock stayed home. It was probably better that way. He was setting up the crib and making sure anything unsafe, such as his chemistry stuff, was but away in the second bedroom upstairs, since the three would be sharing a room. He was home for three days until he finally got the call from John that he and Hamish were coming home. He had been worrying the something was wrong with the baby. Why did they have to keep him for so long? John made sure to explain to Sherlock that it was procedure. So now thee brunette was pacing in the living room. Mrs. Hudson was down stairs and she could hear him.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

_Pause._

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

“Boy’s going to wear a hole in the floor.” She thought to herself as the front door clicked opened. Moving out of her flat she smiled at John and the car seat that the small infant was in. “Can I have a peek before you go show Sherlock?” She asked as John smiled at her. “Of course, come here.” He gently put down the car seat and pulled the cover back a little so Mrs. Hudson could see the tiny baby in all blue. Little gloves covered his tiny fingers and a little hat on his head covering the dark curls. “Oh… he got Sherlock’s hair.” She said moving her hand to touch a small piece of it. “Does he have your eyes John?” She asked looking over at the obviously proud father who nodded. “Yeah, he does and my ears.” He chuckled a little and smiled at her. She chuckled lightly and looked over at him, letting him pull the cover over. “Best get up to Sherlock before he wears a hole in the floor.” John stood up and tiled his head to the side. “Been pacing?” She nodded and pointed, getting quiet so they could both hear it.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

_Pause._

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

John smiled and started up the stairs, gently opening the door to see the brunette walking. “Sherlock, we’re home.” The blond walked into the room and pulled his feet out of his shoe. He walked to the couch and gently placed the car seat down and pulled his coat off. Turning he looked at Sherlock. The detective had never looked so unnerved in all of his life. John waved his hand, beckoning him to come over. “Come see your son silly.” He said with a smile as he lifted the cover again. He could hear Sherlock’s socked feet pad against the wood floor until he was close to him. Ever so gently the blond lifted Hamish from the car seat. He made a small noise and relaxes against John again. Sherlock looked down at the baby, tilting his head to the side as he looked him over, trying his hardest to find a flaw. To convince himself that he always messed up but… Hamish was perfect.

Just perfect.

“Can I hold him?” He asked in a soft voice as he moved his hand up to pull the blanket down, looking at the little button nose. “Of course you can hold him. You’re his father too. Go sit in the chair, I’ll help you.” He said watching Sherlock pull back and wandered over to his chair and sit down. John followed him and gently moved his arms to place Hamish down. Another small noise, it made Sherlock look uncomfortable, but soon the infant was sleeping against him again. “Just mind his head and you’ll be fine.” The brunette nodded to him, moving his hand to pull down the blanket again to look at the child’s face. The blond moved and took his little hat off so Sherlock could see the dark wavy curls. “John… I never knew I could help make something… so perfect.” He muttered as he looked over the baby’s face, pulling off a little glove so he could compare the size.

_So tiny._

_So perfect._

_It’s just like how John said._

_I’m in love._

He was. The moment that Hamish curled against Sherlock and held him there, he knew this had been the right decision. He wanted to be a father, and he would do anything for this child. John just smiled and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock’s head before he wandered off to do some other things. Put away formula and diapers. Make sure everything was where they needed it to be. When he came back he leaned against the door frame in the kitchen and watched silently as Sherlock talked to his son in a soft voice.

Soft voice for soft words.

“Hey baby… I’m your daddy.” He coo’ed to the child rubbing his soft hair with his thumb. “You’re papa and I are going to take good care of you. We’re going to make sure you grow up big and strong, but we’ll protect you when you need protecting. I’ve only been holding you for a couple of hours but already I would give my life for you.” He said watching as Hamish coo’ed a little back at his words, acknowledging he knew he was there. John walked over and kissed Sherlock’s messy hair, planting himself on the arm of the chair. He was a little surprised when the brunette’s arm moved and wrapped around him, his hand laying on his hip. “John for once, you were spot on.” He muttered as he looked up at the blond making him smirk a little.  One hand carded through the soft locks as he leaned down and kissed his lips. “Life wouldn’t be fun if you were the only one who was always right.” He muttered against his lips with a soft hum as Sherlock pressed up and kissed him. Ever since they decided to do this, he seemed… more passionate about life. About their marriage. The hand that was laying against his hip, squeezed a little tighter and gave John a small squeeze. The blond smiled and pulled back from him, pressing his forehead against his. “Sherlock, I love you.” He said moving his hand down to let little Hamish take his finger and hold it. “You know John. I use to think about what would happen when I would get old. When I couldn’t work anymore. When my eye sight would go and my legs and hips would break down under me. And I thought… you know, dying young wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” John let a frown come to his face as blue eyes moved back to green one. “But now, with you and him. I think it would be good. Life. Growing old. As long as I have you two. It could be good.” He said with a soft smile. John leaned down and kissed him softly.

“Yeah. I could be really good.”


	13. Chapter XIII | Seven Years of Peace Shattered

**Chapter XIII | Seven Years of Peace Shattered**

“Hamish Holmes, please come to the office, Hamish Holmes.” The small brunette looked up towards the speaker where the voice had come through and then over to his teacher. He nodded to Hamish who pulled himself up and out of his seat. Walking out the door and down the hall towards the office, he wondered to himself if maybe his dad or papa had come to pick him up for some reason. Maybe even uncle Mycroft, but when the six year old pushed open the door, a tall woman with ruby lips and dark hair stood in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to pinpoint where he had seen her before, or if he had seen her before. “Yes?” He muttered in a soft voice to get her attention. She turned around and smiled at him, kneeling down to his level to look him over. He really did look like his father’s. Dark curly hair, blue eyes. She always wondered about seeing the two mixed together. This child was gorgeous. “Do I know you?” Hamish asked again as he looked over her face. “No, but I know your daddies.” She said as the boy’s blue eyes started to move looking her up and down.

_Who is she?_

“My names Irene.” Hamish looked up, blue eyes rather large. “The woman.” He said before giggling. “My daddy’s phone still makes funny noises when you text him.” Irene couldn’t help but smirk down at him. “Guess he never figured out how to change it. Well, I was asked to watch you for a little while. Your daddies had to go somewhere, will you grab your things and come with me?” Hamish looked over her and tried to figure out if it was lie or the truth. Neither had ever said much about her. They certainly didn’t say anything about no trusting her. He actually hadn’t heard a lot about not trusting people surprisingly. Mostly the usual, don’t go with strangers. But she wasn’t a stranger. Not really. He looked over at the secretary. “Was there a note or anything?” He asked. Irene raised a brow as he moved over to the counter to take the note from her.

_He’s bright._

_Really bright._

_Well._

_He’s is Sherlock Holmes son._

Little blue eyes flashed over the paper, looking over at the writing carefully. When he was satisfied that it looked like they’re writing he handed it back and smiled at Irene. “Let me get my stuff.” She nodded and stood up, reaching for his hand. He placed his hand in her’s and walked out of the office to his classroom, grabbing his things he needed and then his little coat. Irene took his back pack and walked with him to the black car parked outside the school. She had figured he was fairly small, both of his parents had been small when they were young, although Sherlock sprouted like a weed, he was still like a bean pole. Tall but thin. She had a feeling that was how Hamish was going to be. She opened the door and helped him climb into the booster seat, buckling him in safely. “There we go. If you’re tired feel free to nap. It’s a long drive.” She said moving the dark hair back and smiling at him.

_God, he looks so much like Sherlock._

Hamish gave her a small smile and nodded turning to grab his back pack, tugging out a book. Irene shut the door and climbed in the front seat, she turning on the car. Before leaving she took out her phone and sent a text.

_“I have him. It was easier than I thought it would be.”_

She placed the phone down and started to pulled away when the phone beeped.

_“Good. Now the fun starts.”_

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Frantic knocking, pulled John away from surgery. Luckily there were other doctor’s there to fill in for him as he moved over to see what the nurse wanted. “What is it?” She held the phone out to him. “It’s Sherlock. He said it was something about Hamish.” John’s eyes went wide and he moved out of the room, tugging off the bloodied gloves before grabbing the phone and moving away from the door. “Sherlock, what’s wrong? Is he okay?”

_“You have to come home now.”_

Sherlock sounded panicked, that made John start to panic as well. He started to pull the bloodied clothes off making his way to locker room. “Sherlock, please. Tell me what happened? Please, please just tell me.” He begged into the phone as he pulled his clothes off and get into his civies. He left the phone one speaker so he could hear if Sherlock said anything but the line stayed quiet. He was just pulling his shoes on when Sherlock said something.

_“John, take me off the speaker and sit down.”_

The blinked and did as he was told, taking the phone off speaker and pressed the phone against his ear. “Sherlock?”

_“Are you sitting?”_

“Just bleedin’ tell me already! What happened to Hamish?!” He yelled into the phone, not really meaning too. But he was getting frustrated. Really frustrated. This was their son. Their six year old little boy. Their everything really.

_“When I went to pick him up today from school the principal said a woman named Irene picked him up around noon.  She had forged our names on a note saying we had left and it was okay for her to take him. They tried calling but you were in surgery and I…”_

He let out a sigh. John could hear him trying to compose himself. “You were ignoring your phone…weren’t you?” The blond’s voice was low as he sunk to the floor against the locker. There was a long pause. He didn’t mean to sound accusing, he knew after he said it that was how Sherlock took it. Hell he had already been blaming himself. Finally the voice on the other side of the phone said something.

_“I’m going to fix this. I promise. But you need to get home.”_

John swallowed hard and pulled himself up. Nodding to the phone even if Sherlock couldn’t see it. “Yes… I’ll be there soon…” He muttered softly, “Sherlock… I love you okay? We’ll fix this together. It’s no one’s fault.”

Another long pause.

_“Get home, John.”_

**_Click._ **

John frowned and moved out of the locker room, handing the phone back to the nurse. He told her there was an emergency but nothing else.  He was out the door and in a cab, telling him to hurry. The ride seemed unbearably long but that was probably because he was trying to hurry. Trying to get home as fast as he could.

_Why would Irene take him?_

_Why?_

_After we helped her._

_But…_

“Oh fuck…” He realized what was going on. Their seven years of peace was shattered in one day. And now he knew by whom. When the cab stopped he tossed some money forward. He knew the exact amount now after so many years of diving it back and forth. Not that he minded. He didn’t like to try and drive in London. Too much traffic. He pulled himself out of the cab and ran up into the flat. “Sherlock!” He yelled and opened the door panting lightly. As soon as he saw his husband he felt like he was going to break. Knowing their son wasn’t there to jump into his arms and tell him how school went. “Sherlock…” John muttered again looking over at the brunette who moved quickly and wrapped his arms around him. “Shh… John, John it’s okay, love… we’re gonna fine him. Lestrade’s working already and so is Mycroft. We’ll find him. I promise John. We’ll get him back.” He said holding the blond and feeling him shake.

“We’ll get him back.”

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

The black car stopped and the woman took a deep breath. She picked up her phone and sent a message. It was dark and the little boy in the back of the car had fallen asleep reading his book.

_“We’re here.”_

The phone beeped as she started to get out. She looked at it and read the message.

_“Good, bring him in.”_

Irene pocketed her phone and opened the back door grabbing the backpack and unbuckling the child and hoisting him onto her shoulder. “There now…” She said as he snuggled against her. Her heart felt heavy. Really heavy. But she needed to do this. “Sorry boys.” She muttered as she walked up to the building and let her in.

“Ahh! Irene! You are a dear, really you are.”

She shushed him and gestured to the sleeping boy on her shoulder. Jim made a soft noise and moved around to look at him. “Well, well. He is the spitting image of our sweet little virgin isn’t he?” He muttered as he moved around her back to the front. “I brought you what you wanted, you’ll help me now right?” She asked, feeling her pulse race when his smile disappeared. “Take the brat.” He ordered as one of the men roughly grabbed Hamish from her, making him scream and flail. “Don’t hurt him!” She yelled looking over at Jim. “This is about Sherlock, don’t hurt the boy.” She begged to him and he smirked at her. “You’re job’s done Irene. One of my men will take you where you need to go.” He said moving past her. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “James, don’t hurt the boy please…” He looked down at her hand and moved quickly, slapping her hard and making her fly to the floor. “The best way to hurt Sherlock, is to hurt the people he loves the most. And this little boy right here…” He said walking over to Hamish and grabbed his throat roughly. The brunette cried out and kicked. Clawing at his hand to get loose. “This boy is his heart.” The dark haired man tossed him to the ground and listen as he slammed on his arm. A sickening crack filled the room. “Get her out of here. Throw the brat in a cell.” He ordered as before walking out of the room. Irene tried to get to him only to be grabbed, the man who had been holding him before grabbed his shirt collar to pull him away. “Irene! Irene, help me! No!” She felt her heart breaking.

_Oh god._

_What have I done?_

_I’m so sorry._


	14. Chapter XIV | You Make It So Easy

**Chapter XIV | You Make It So Easy**

Sherlock sighed lightly and rubbed a hand through his dark hair. He looked down at John, who had finally given in from a mixture of worry and then just being tired from surgery. Surgery always took a lot out of him. He moved his hand down and gently ran his long fingers through his hair. He couldn’t help but let a small smile come to his hips as the blond make a content noise at feeling of his hair being touched. Taking a deep breath the brunette leaned against the couch, gripping his phone as hard as he could in his hand without breaking it. He wanted to be out there looking, but he had to make sure that John was okay first. There were other people working on finding him too.

Mycroft.

Lestrade.

They weren’t him, but they were better than no one at the moment. But he still wanted something. Some answers to where his son was. Or even where Irene was. He was so angry inside. After helping her. Keeping her alive. And she pulls this shit on them. He didn’t think he could ever feel so betrayed. Not after the crap that Mycroft pulled. A sigh came from the brunette as he weaved his fingers in John’s hair. His phone beeped and he looked over.

_Good news, please be good news._

**_From: Mycroft_ **

**_How’s John?_ **

Sherlock sighed and typed out a message to his brother.

_“He’s sleeping. Finally. Have you found anything at all?”_

He was glad that he was texting instead of trying to call him. He wouldn’t have picked it up anyways, unless it was something important. He figured that Mycroft probably knew that and that’s why he was texting now. Another beep. He clicked the message and read it.

**_From: Mycroft_ **

**_No, I’m sorry. We’re still looking._ **

Sherlock grumbled under his breath.

_“Let me know.”_

He sent back as John started to shift in his lap. His hand moved back to the blond locks, gently pushing them back. “Hey… want to go lay on the bed? It’ll feel better than the couch.” He said as John opened his blue eyes to look at him, he took a deep breath and pulled himself up. Holding out a hand to stop Sherlock from getting up with him. “I’m fine, just give me a little time alone.” He muttered in a half slurred voice as he moved towards the bedroom, using the walls to keep himself from stumbling too much. A small frown came to the brunette face as he watched. They had to cope in their own way. He guessed that’s why John wanted to be alone. Just a little time to think. He took a deep breath and plopped down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

_Hamish._

_Please be okay._

_Remember to be strong and clever._

_We’ll get you back soon._

_Daddy promises._

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Hamish shuddered a little and groaned as he was tossed face first into the floor of the cell. He panted softly and looked around at the concrete walls. There was nothing in here at all. Only a small window that was too high for him to even try and see out of. The other three walls were stone and the forth was the bars. They were too thin to slip through. He swallowed hard and pulled himself up from the floor with a soft groan, holding his broken arm and trying hard to get his brain to focus.

_What would dad do?_

He thought to himself and took a deep breath, moving over to the wall, farthest from the cell door.

_Fix your arm first Hamish. The move on from there._

He sighed and moved to pull his coat away gently from his shoulders and over his arm. A small hiss leaving his throat at the pain the rippled through him every time he jarred it, even just a little bit. He took a deep breath and started to make a sling out of his jacket. Tying a knot in the sleeves with his teeth and free hand, before moving to gently loop it behind his head. Hamish gently pushed the sling under his broken arm. It was a good thing that when he figured out John was a doctor he became interested in medicine. John had taught him about if he ever needed to make a sling on his own, how to treat wounds, snake bites things like that. Outdoor first aid things. He had also gone to work with John too, it helped.  Even more so because he had Sherlock’s mind and memory to go with it, so he could remember everything step by step. Hamish leaned his head against the wall and looked around the cell then back down at his arm, adjusting it a little more. At least it was just his arm. It could have been a hell of a lot more. He closed his eyes and pictured the man in his head. He knew he had seen him before but he didn’t know where from. Something that his dad had told him about one night… but he had only gotten a little of the story before papa yelled at him to stop because apparently Hamish didn’t need to know. Well not he really wished he knew.

_Who is he?_

_What name did they say?_

It was M something. He groaned and pushed his dark hair back, frowning as he felt more fear rise in his chest the more he thought about it. Hamish suddenly felt the need to cry. He wanted to but at the same time he didn’t.

_What does it matter, you’re all alone. Not like anyone will se—_

He paused his thoughts and felt tears prickle in the corners of his blue eyes.

_Oh god._

_I’m all alone._

Hot tears started to roll down his cheeks as his breath hitched in his chest. He wiped his eyes and they tears just kept coming, pouring down his face. Hamish whimpered and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his good around his thin legs. Pressing his face into the top of his knees he let out a wail.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

In a different room, a cruel smirk was coming to James Moriarty’s face as he listened to Hamish sob and cry out for “daddy” to help him. Even if he was as intelligent as Sherlock he was still a child. He couldn’t help but try to imagine six year old Sherlock in his son’s position at this moment.

_Would you cry like your son?_

_Call out for your father to save you?_

The thought made a giggle come from his throat. The dark haired man leaned back in his chair and played with his phone as he watched the child on the monitors. This was just too much fun. Well. It was just going to get more entertaining when Sherlock joined the game.

Reaching out Jim took his phone and scrolled through the numbers until he got to Sherlock. He stood up and chuckled again as he walked out of the room, softly humming to himself. Before he got to the cells he pressed send and waited for him to answer.

 

“Sherlock dear, did you miss me?”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hearing his phone ring, Sherlock blinked and looked at it. He could barely make out the word on the screen, but finally he got it.

_Withheld Calling…_

 

Placing the phone to his ear after hitting answer he felt his heart almost stop when he hear the voice on the other side the phone. “Moriarty.” He whispered and moved to sit up and go out of the room. He could hear crying in the back ground as he stepped through what must have been a door. “James, I swear to god if you hurt him…” A cackle cut him off. The sound almost made him shudder.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Oh hush now, Virgin. You’re in no position to be making threats.” He said in his usual high voice as he look in the cell at the tiny boy, who had stopped crying but now was looking up at him with fear filled teary blue eyes. “You just had to go and get all boring on me, Sherlock. Settling down and having a family. Pfft!” He blew a raspberry in the phone and dug in his pockets for the keys to the door. “You make it so easy to hurt you. First with John, and now this precious little brat who really is daddy’s spitting image.” He giggled and opened the door and moved towards Hamish, kneeling down to his eye level. “You want to talk to daddy, little virgin?” He said holding out the phone to him. Hamish shakily took the phone in his hand and pressed it against his ear before hiccupping.

“D-Daddy…”

 

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Hamish! Oh, are you okay baby? Did he hurt you at all?” He tried to stay hushed as he paced down the stairs and out of the flat. Mrs. Hudson peeked her head to see him on the phone as he moved outside so didn’t say anything.

_“He hurt my arm daddy. I think it’s b-broken. But I did what papa showed me and made a sling out of my coat.”_

Sherlock suppressed the urge to growl into the phone. Hamish was scared enough as it was. He didn’t mean to make it worse. “It’s okay sweetie. Daddy’s gonna come get you soon okay. I promise. Be a brave boy, can you do that for me Hamish?” He asked and he gripped his hair gently in his free hand. There was a long pause before the boy answered.

_“Yes daddy. I love you.”_

He smiled softly and leaned against the door, he tried to take a breath but it make his voice crack. Sherlock himself was almost crying. “I love you too baby. Give the phone back now.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James smirked and took the phone away from him. “So Virgin, here’s what’s going to happen, tonight at three am a black car will park outside of your flat. You are to get into the car and it will bring you here. If you tell anyone where you’re going, and I will know if you do, your boy…” He reached up and grabbed Hamish’s chin making the boy cry out and whimper. “Will be in pieces. Got it?” He said into the phone as he waited for an answer from the brunette on the other line.

_“I understand.”_

Jim smirked and let the boy go before standing. “Good man. See you in a few hours.” He hung up the phone and smirked down at the little boy. “You really should have said your good-byes. You won’t have a chance when he gets here.” Hamish gave him a defiant look and pulled himself up from the wall. “You’ve tried to kill my daddy twice and failed. I think you’re the one who should be worried about dying.” Moriarty’s smirk left his face as he looked over at Hamish. “Heh.” He pretend to walk away for a moment before pulling a gun and pointing it at the six year old, watching his eyes go cosmetically wide. “Get that sassy mouth from John. I’d watch it because Hamish…” The way he said his name made him shiver, his blue eyes moved off the gun and up to him. “I don’t need to keep you alive to get your father here, and…” He chuckled lightly.

“I’m not afraid to shoot a child.”


	15. Chapter XV | A Father's Duty

**Chapter XV | A Father’s Duty**

Sherlock moved back into the flat. He was slow and quiet. Leaning against the door and looking at his phone. What was he supposed to tell John? Should he tell John anything? He took a deep breath and pressed his hands against his face before sighing. His mind was a thousand miles away. Literally so far away that he didn’t even hear John pad out of the bedroom, the light clinking noise of his cane against the wood floor.

“Sherlock? Something happen?”

His voice was soft and tired sounding, but it was enough to bring Sherlock out of his daze and look up at him, gripping his phone in his hand. John had his cane, leaning heavily against it. He couldn’t help but frown a little as he looked over the blond. Most of the time he didn’t even need it anymore; Sherlock had talked him into therapy when they first got back from Scotland. It must have been bothering him tonight. That didn’t really surprise him. It got worse with stress. Sherlock swallowed hard as John walked over to him and pressed a hand against his cheek. “What is it?” He whispered as the brunette closed his eyes and pressed into the warm palm. “I know where Hamish is.” He stated in nothing more than a whisper. He was trying to make sure it quiet enough that if the flat was bugged Moriarty wouldn’t hear them. John’s blue eyes were wide when Sherlock opened his to look at the blond. “Whe--…!” The raven haired man wrapped his hand around John’s head and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Shh…place might be bugged.” John looked up at him and nodded a little keeping his forehead against Sherlock’s. He was a little surprised how warm he was. A flicker of worry passed through him as he felt of the brunette’s head with the back of his hand. Sherlock gave him a look like he was going crazy. “What are you doing, John?” He asked waiting for him to explain. “You feel kinda feverish? Feelin’ okay?” He asked taking his hand away. Of course the detective only nodded. “Of course, that’s not important at the moment. I think it’s mostly stress. Now, listen.” He started before stopping and pulling the blond to the bathroom, just to be safe. John let it slide. He was right. It was probably just from being worked up. Making his blood pressure higher. He limped after him and shut the bathroom door. Sitting on the edge of the tub as Sherlock continued explaining. “Tonight at three, there’s going to be a black car out front. Moriarty called me. Let me talk to Hamish. He’s fine besides maybe a broken arm.” John turned his head away from Sherlock and balled his fists in his lap. It was bad enough that Moriarty had Irene take him but to break his son’s arm. Oh, that was just asking John to kill him. Frowning softly the brunette moved his hand up and gently pressed it against the blond’s back, rubbing soft circles that made his posture relax. “Why does he keep doing this Sherlock? Why can’t he just leave us alone? It’s been almost ten years. Ten years and we haven’t tried tracking him down or anything, why won’t he let us be?” He was almost begging for an answer from the other man. But he really didn’t have one.

Well.

That wasn’t complete true.

“He wants me John. I’ve always been like a little… pet project of his. This time when I was on the phone with him, he told me I got boring. Because I settled down and had a family.” John frowned and took his hand looking up at him. “Tell me what you want me to do. I want to help, just tell me.” He said with a determined look. Sherlock would never admit it, but he loved that look. Almost as much as he liked when John would pull rank or let any of his military quirks come through. There was something about Captain John Watson, and Doctor John Watson that was like night and day. He smiled at him and raised his hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his tanned knuckles.

“Get your gun.”

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Keeping blue eyes locked on Moriarty, Hamish was trying his best to stay awake. He didn’t trust this man. Not after point a gun in his face. But he was hitting his breaking point. His eyelids started to fall shut and his head lolling forward as sleep started to take him. He was young after all. He was use to going to bed at about eight or nine. It was already passed two in the morning. Soon they would be going anyways.

_Sweet Virgin’s coming to play._

James watched from a chair as his head laid against his knees and he started to sleep. His little back rising and falling as his breathing evened out in his sleeping state. He quietly scooted his wheeled office chair closer to the bars, playing with the gun in his hands as he watched. He had never really taken time to observe children. He didn’t even really like children. But this little boy, was the child of the person he was most like. His mind wandered into delightfully twisted things. Like for example taking little Hamish and raising him to be like him, then setting him lose on his parents once again.

_Ooh that sounds fun._

But then, he wasn’t good with children. He’d probably kill the little brat before he could grow up and do any good. James could tell by what the boy had said earlier he was of no use to him. Too much like John already with that fucking smart mouth. He really would have smacked him for that.

_Maybe later._

_Maybe in front of Sherlock._

He felt a small grin pull at his lips as he hummed lightly and tapping the corner of the barrel against his chin. Continuing to watch Hamish sleep. His breathing was still soft. Personally Moriarty was a little surprised that he wasn’t having a nightmare.

_Too bad._

_Would have liked to see that really._

_Listen to him cry out for “Daddy” to save him._

A chuckled passed his lips, but he stopped himself as he saw the boy shift a little. He pressed his head against the wall. Hamish had pressed himself into a corner after Jim left the cell. Children are kinda like frightened animals, only without the biting and clawing. Feeling a vibrating in his pocket, the consulting criminal jumped a little. He moved and pulled the phone from his pocket and looked over it with a small smirk. Three am. He smirked and chuckled a little pointing the gun into the cell and pulling the trigger.

**BANG!!**

Hamish screamed at the loud noise, covering his ears as he started to cry. Bits of cement and dust covered his hair from where it fell. Jim had shot the wall above the boy’s head, just to give him a good scare. The dark haired man giggled and pushed himself away from the bars with his feet. The chair rolled back a little ways before he jumped up, pressing the gun into its holster once more. “Alright little Virgin! Daddy will be here soon, so let’s go meet him shall we?” He chirped, as he walked over to the cell and unlocked it. The brunette whimpered and pressed himself back into the corner more. He was still crying.

_Is that all children do is cry?_

_Christ._

“Come on you little brat.” He huffed reaching out and grabbing the long dark curls. Hamish cried out as he was pulled to his feet, wriggling in Jim’s grasp. The older man smirked wickedly at the boy. It was almost like what he had done to Sherlock in Russia. He giggled and pulled him forward a little. When the boy lost his footing and fell, James dragged him out of the cell by his hair. The sound of Hamish screaming and crying reverberated off the walls as he was pulled outside.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Swallowing hard the brunette looked at his phone as he walked out of the front door. Two minutes to three. He was getting antsy. God he hoped this plan would work. He took a deep breath as the black car pulled up to the curb. Walking down the stairs slowly, he opened the door and climbed in, making sure to memorize the license plate number before getting in. He pulled his seatbelt over his chest and sent the plate number to John. He deleted all of his messages in case they asked for his phone. He shoved it back in his pocket and looked out the window as the car started to move.

_I’m coming Hamish._

_It’s gonna be okay._

He thought to himself as the car moved out deep into the middle of nowhere. He was trying to keep track of which way they were going but it was hard when his son was in danger. Being a parent had really changed him. Not necessarily for the worse of the better. He had always had people that he cared about and would do anything for. John being one of them. But this little boy. This was his little boy. Something that was part of him. He didn’t know what it would do to him if he got there and he was dead. Sherlock lost track of where they were until the car stopped. The brunette swallowed hard and opened the door, pulling himself out of the car followed by the two men in the front seat.  They nodded in the direction he was supposed to go, deep into a wooded area then, a clearing. Sherlock looked around wearily, keeping his guard up. Then that voice. That damned high mocking voice rang out towards him, tiny whimpers following it. “Virgin! So nice to see you again. Daddy really has to come up with a better nice name now that you really aren’t a virgin anymore huh?” He chuckled and lifted Hamish to his feet and pressing his against his stomach and legs so he was facing Sherlock. An arm wrapped tightly around his throat making him gag a little as he pulled at the arm to get some air. “Here’s your little brat, safe and sound.” He let out a laugh. “Well, not really, but at least he’s alive and in one piece.” He smirked a little and looked over at Sherlock who stood rigidly as he watched the dark haired boy struggle against Moriarty’s grasp. “You got me here. What do you want?” He said as he took a step forward, raising a hand out to calm his son. A silent way of telling him it was going to be okay. James growled and pulled his arm tighter, yanking the gun from his holster and pressing it against the dark haired boy. Sherlock stopped dead as he looked at him. “Really now? You really have lost your touch Sherlock. You should know what I want from you.” He pulled the hammer back, gaining a whimper from Hamish. Tears were falling from his eyes again. “You want me dead, then shot me. Let him go. He’s six years old. He’s got nothing to do with this.” James laughed and tensed his trigger finger. “Wrong! You’re so dead wrong! This is about me destroying you. Ruining everything in your life that I can get my hands on. I tried with John, but this. This was just too perfect. He looks exactly like you.” He grabbed the boy’s hair and yanked his head back. “Except he’s got Johnny boy’s eyes. I think I would like to see what would happen to you, if I blew his sweet little head off. Sherlock what do you think? Should we try?” Sherlock felt his heart beating so fast in his chest that he was sure it was going to burst.

_No._

He locked eyes with Hamish’s as the boy whimpered.

“D-Daddy…”

**_BANG!_ **

"HAMISH!"


	16. Chapter XVI | Broken Crown

**Chapter XVI | Broken Crown**

Silence.

Long and terrible silence as everyone tried to realize what had just happened. Sherlock watched at the gun slowly dropped out of Moriarty’s hand and thudded to the ground. His arm still around his son’s neck as blood started to stain the white shirt he was wearing. He panted and looked up at Sherlock, dark eyes locking with those green ones. “H-Heee… w-well this is u-unexpected.” And with those words he thudded to the ground, dragging Hamish down with him.

“Hamish! Hamish!”

Even with the boy crying, everything seemed muted. Slow motion, like it was a dream or something.

Sherlock moved forward and pulled the small boy into his arms away from the bloodied man lying on the ground with a bullet in his chest. He could hear him gasping for air as blood filled his lungs. The sound actually made Sherlock a little sick as he sat on the ground with his son, who was still literally screaming into his chest. He hated knowing he was so afraid. This should have never happened. “Shh… shh, you’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

_Good old John’s still got a crack shot._

_John._

_Where is he?_

Sherlock lifted Hamish from the ground and started walking away when the blond revealed himself. He jogged up to them, holding his gun in one hand and petting Hamish’s hair with the other. “Oh god, are you okay?” The little boy only whimpered and clung to Sherlock for a moment before looking over at John. He acted like for a moment he wanted to squirm out of his arms and go to John but then changed his mind. His little arms locked around the brunette’s head and held onto him tightly. Sherlock swallowed hard and looked at John. “He’s still alive. Barely. He’s dying.” John turned his eyes and looked over at the man on the ground who was coughing up more blood. Slowly the blond pulled away and walked over to him. Sherlock furrowed a brow and walked behind him. “John, what are you doing?” He stopped and looked back at Sherlock. “Get Hamish out of here please. I’m finishing this.” He said in a rather hard voice that almost made Sherlock shudder. He didn’t sound like his compassionate John. He liked the part of John that was a soldier, but at the same time, he was so different at times it made him a little nervous. “You don’t have to do this. We can call Lestrade and--…” John shook his head. “And what? Wait for him to bust out against and do all of this again? Sherlock. Next time he might kill one of us. He almost killed you last time and this time Hamish. I’m tired of living in fear that he’ll be back.” The brunette looked over at James who had turned his head to look over at them. He thought back to the first time Moriarty tried this.

_“What if I just shot you now?”_

_“That you could cherish my look of surprise. Because I would be surprised Sherlock really I would. And a little disappointed.”_

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John. “Finish it then call Lestrade.” He said touching his face before wrapping his arms around his son and backing away. “Careful John, wolf can still bit without it’s head.” John gave a nod and waited until Sherlock was out of sight before moving to Jim. He looked down at him, his face was deadly serious. All Moriarty did was smirk and start to giggle at him. It made John more angry then he already was.

_I hate that smirk._

_I hate that laugh._

_I hate you._

“Any last words before I finish this?” He asked in a harsh tone, gaining another giggle from the insane man. It was gurgled by blood filling his mouth again. “Why John, Mr. Soldier. Doctor John Watson. Don’t you have some sort of silly oath that keeps you from killing people?” John raised his gun and pointed it towards head. “I also have an oath to protect the people I love. I won’t lose sleep over putting a bullet in your brain. Actually I think I’ll quite enjoy it really.” Moriarty tilted his head to the side, his smirk slipping from his lips as he stared at John. “Because I took you’re son?” John gritted his teeth. “Because you broke my six year old’s arm and shoved a gun in his face, not to mention almost killing Sherlock, making him fake his death for three years, torturing him and oh yeah, strapping a bomb to my chest. You’ve done so many things to us that I can’t even name them all. I’m tired of being afraid.” James chuckled and moved to pull himself up, his forehead pressing flush to the barrel of the gun. “You’ll always be afraid, John. Because even if you put that bullet in my head I have people who will keep coming after Sherlock until he is dead.” John swallowed hard and felt his grip tighten on the gun. “No, I think without you, it’s over.” He said cocking the hammer back.

“See you in hell.”

Before John could pull the trigger Moriarty snatched his leg out from under him, making him yelp and fall. The gun going off and shooting straight in the air he was scrambling to sit himself up.

**_BANG!_ **

John hissed at the pain in his side as he aimed his gun up. He pulled the hammer back and didn’t hesitate to fire this time. He stared at blood started to trickle from the wound. His body thumped to the ground and John stayed where he was, almost like he was frozen in place.

_Is he really dead?_

Scooting himself back he panted softly, his hand pressing to his bloodied side. He was pretty sure it just nicked him, but it still hurt like hell. Managing to pulled himself to his feet he loomed over the unmoving man. Just to be safe he fired again. John swallowed hard and moved back, leaning down to snatch the other gun away. Now he just had to call.

_Fucking finally._

John waited near the body until they got there with the ambulance. Lestrade asking where Sherlock and Hamish were. John let him know that they were already at the hospital. He was starting to lose his balance.

Blood loss.

John stopped for a moment before they took him to the ambulance. “Send Sherlock a message and tell him Moriarty’s dead and I’ll be there soon.” Greg nodded and did as he was told, watching John get loaded. He looked back at the body that was covered. John wouldn’t do time for this, not after everything this man had done to them. Technically it was self-defense since John had been shot. His phone beeped and he looked down at the message from Sherlock.

_“Is John okay?_

_-SH”_

**“He’ll be meeting you there.**

**-GL”**

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Well John had been wrong about it being a nick. But it had gone all the way through and didn’t manage to hit anything vital. He managed just a few stitches and a bandage. They told him that he really should rest, but he wanted to check on his son. He had been away from him long enough. Now he wanted nothing more than to just hold onto him and gently stroke over his hair, whisper to him that he loved him and everything was okay now. Gently knocking on the door, John turned the knob and pressed it open. “Sherlock?” He asked into the dark room the TV was playing cartoons quietly. The brunette usually didn’t let Hamish watch cartoons besides Disney. But that’s because Sherlock could play them on the violin and that always made Hamish happy when he was sad.

“John.”

The blue eyes turned to see Sherlock untangling himself from the child on the bed, pressing his little stuffed monkey into his arms to give him something to cling to as he went over to hug John. “Are you okay? Lestrade wouldn’t tell me anything.” He whispered as he pulled back when the blond winced a little. “Had a bit of a tussle.” He lifted his shirt to show him the bandage. “Through and through, but a few stitches. Moriarty’s dead.” He said looking up at Sherlock, who gave him a worried look. He nodded lightly but was always worried that John would be upset after killing someone. But it really didn’t seem to bother him. That was the soldier in him. He was taught to fight and to kill to protect himself and others. “How’s Hamish?” He smiled a little and turned to look at the boy who was starting to rub his eyes now. “Papa?” John smiled and moved over to him, sitting on the bed. He wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him. “Hey baby, you doing okay? How’s your arm, can papa see?” He asked as Hamish lifted his arm to reveal a blue cast. “They said because you’re my papa I could pick any color I wanted.” John chuckled as Sherlock moved over and sat in the chair near them. The blond shifted kicking off his shoes and crawling onto the bed with Hamish between his legs, leaving enough room for the brunette to join them. The small boy stared up at the telly and relaxed. “Papa, did you kill the bad man?” He asked after a little while of silence. John felt his heart stick into his throat. Hamish was smart, he knew about death already. Curtly the doctor nodded to him. “Yes, I killed him.” He said leaning down to kiss his curly hair. “Because that was you’re job right? To kill bad guys before you were a doctor?” He asked again looking up at him. Sherlock moved his hand to pet the dark hair. “Papa was a soldier. He only killed people to protect others. But we don’t have to worry about that anymore. Because all the bad men are gone. Okay?” He said letting his green eyes connect with Hamish’s. “So… papa’s a hero?” John felt a smile come to his face as Sherlock looked up at him and smiled.

“Yeah. Papa’s a hero.”


	17. Epilogue | Normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda sad because it's over. ;; J ;;

**Epilogue | Normalcy**

Things moved on from there. No more Moriarty after them. Irene had gone back into hiding so John didn’t get to hit her for being in on this, but if she ever showed her face again, he wouldn’t think twice. But it really didn’t come to that.

Hamish slowly got over it. Some nights he would wake up screaming but why the time John got up stair to check on him Sherlock already had the boy in his arms rocking him softly, sometimes he would even sing. John wouldn’t have ever known that Sherlock could sing if he hadn’t stop at the door. It made him smile how much he had changed. Some things were still the same. The cases, not talking for days on end, not eating. But that was all normal, they were all use to him being like that.

Everything had calmed down.

There was normalcy in their lives.

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“Dad when is papa supposed to be home?” Hamish asked looking up from his book to see Sherlock sitting in his chair with his violin. He was fiddling with it, either tuning it or something. He looked really lose in thought though. Almost a little worried. “Dad. Dadddddd. Hellooooo.” Hamish groaned and pulled himself up, waving his hand over his face making him snap out of his thought. “Yes, Hamish?” He asked looking up at the teen who just laughed at him. “When’s papa supposed to be home?” Sherlock shook his head and reached over for his phone. “Uh, about ten minutes. He messaged me and I wasn’t paying attention to hear it.” The boy smiled and nodded, plopping down in John’s chair. “So are you excited?” He asked looking over his father who made a face. “I’m anxious. Just like I was with you.” He said with a small chuckle. Hamish let a grin come to his face that reminded Sherlock of John. “This is gonna be different though. Little girl? Did you guys decide on a name? I know you were trying to think of one.” The detective nodded and opened his mouth to say something when the door clicked open.

John smiled a little as he walked in the car seat. “Hey boys.” He said as he pulled off his shoes and jacket. Both pulled themselves from they’re chairs and moved over to where John was. The blond placed the car seat on the coffee table and pulled the cover off to reveal the little blond baby. Her eyes were bright green as she looked around at everyone in the room. “Aw, look who’s awake.” He smiled and unbuckled her, gently pulling her from the car seat. “Want to see daddy huh?” He asked gently moving the blond baby to Sherlock’s arms. He remembered what John had told him all those years ago.

_Mind her head._

He chuckled and tilted his head to look over her, both set of green eyes locking with one another. “She’s precious, isn’t she?” He asked looking up at John. Hamish moved over to her and smiled at the baby. “So what’s her name?”

“Molly.”

 

**_Everyone needs a bit of normalcy._ **


End file.
